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©hlaboma 

Sunshine. 


3 Sp freeman i£. flDUler, 

Butbor of “©hlaboma ant> otbcr jpoems,” 
“Songs from tbc Soutb-HUest 
Country," ere. 


•c*c »c*c 


Stillwater, Oklahoma 
©be Bbvance printing Company. 
1905 . 

: • •C«C«f • »C*C •C«C 9C9COC9C9 • 


•c • ♦ m •„ 



UBKARY of CONGRESS 
fwo Copies rtwwveii 


JUN 20 1905 



U.SS & XXc. No» 

/n^9 x. 


COPY B. 


Copyright, 1905. 
BY 

Freeman E. Mieee 
All Rights Reserve! 




The Gospel of Sunshine is the one Su¬ 
preme Evangel, the Religion of Love is 
Mankind’s most Universal Creed. They 
hold in their divine Baptisms the Win¬ 
ning of the Heart to Happiness , the Woo¬ 
ing of the Soul to Heaven. 


Beginning with June 9, 1904, there was a 
column of verse and prose published in “The 
Stillwater Advance” under the caption “Okla¬ 
homa Sunshine.” These were written in the 
moments of a busy life, amid the crowding of 
sterner things, and many of them found a wide 
circulation in the fugitive publications of the 
day. So many persons have offered expressions 
of being pleased and helped by them that they 
are here presented in a more permanent form. 
The following comprise the year from June, 
1904, to June, 1905. 


CONTENTS. 


VERSES. 

PAGE. 

A Busy Family,. 4 

A Blazing Future, - - 185 

A Contented Farmer, - - - 19 

A Date With Joy, - - - 205 

A Happy Farmer, - - - 299 

A Jolly Good Game, 18 

A Little of Love, - - 6 

All Fool’s Day. - 249 

A Memory. ..... 330 
A Modern Love Story, ... 276 

A New Year’s Resolution, - - 174 

A Praver. ... . - 29 

April 22, 1889-1905, .... 269 

A Song of Green Valleys, - - 30 

At Rest, ----- 188 

A True Hero, - - - - 181 

At the End. - - - - - 214 

At the Turning of the Lane, - - 289 

At the Twilight, - ... 290 

At Valentine’s Day, - - - 204 

A Valentine, - 307 

A Welcome for Winter, - - - 97 

Away from the Winter, - - - 222 


Be Patient, 

Be Strong to Dare, 

Best of All, 

Better Hide Out, 

Better Hurry, 

Brighter than the Dreams, 


116 

69 

39 

129 

277 

286 


De Hant, - - - - - 190 

Doing Pretty Well, ... 

Don’t Fall out with Life, - - 220 

Don’t Frown, - - - - 8 

Don’t Grumble, - - - 5 

Don’t Trade with Trouble, - - 227 

Don’t Worry or Fret, My Dearie, - 40 

Don’t You Fret, ... 61 

Don’t You Grumble, 46 

Dreaming, - - - - - 17 

Dreams, - - - - - 1 , 254 


Evil Prophets, .... 173 


Contents. 


Feelin’ Fine, 

PAGE. 

71 

Fields of May, 

305 

Finally, 

167 

Finis - 

312 

Fishing Time, 

234 

For the Flew Year, 

166 

Forgotten, 

113 

Give Us More, 

113 

Get in the Game, 

God Give Us Change. 

15 

87 

Guod-bye, Dear Heart, 

- - 22 

Good-bye to Trouble, 

158 

Good Morning—Good Night, 

216 

Governor Tom, 

193 

Hands Around, My Honey, 

38 

He Voted Graft. 

- 182 

Hear the Song, 

106 

Hope, 

41 

Howdy, Mister Summer, 

- 287 

If Love Abides, 

- 277 

If Santa Claus Don’t Come, 

162 

In April Days, 

260 

In Prayer, 

65 

In Supplication, 

- 57 

In the Lap of Spring, 

300 

In the Light, 

120 

In the Orchards of Spring, 

252 

In the Shine, 

138 

In Yearning Mood, 

114 

Jist a-Wus.hin’, 

298 

Jog Along, 

9 

Joy is Here, 

184 

June Time, 

21 

Just Be Patient, 

223 

Kansas Has her Dander up, 

217 

Keep Away from Trouble, 

48 

Keep Busy, 

212 

Keep in the Light, 

229 

Keep them Alive, 

145 

Life, ... 

158 

Life and Love, 

228 

Life’s Way, 

208 

Loafing, - 

300 


Contents. 


Look out for Trouble, - 493 

Love Brings the Song, - - : 104 

Love’s Dream, - - - 74 

Minnows and Big Fish, - - 50 

Mistah Cotton, - - 449 

Mister Blue Bird, - - - 339 

Mister Cantaloupe, - 13 

Mister Ground Efosr, - - - 495 

Move Along. - - - - 341 

My Heritage, 284 

My Philosophy, 3 

Never Mind the Hills, - - - 182 

Never Worry, - 442 

Off the Reservation, - - - 335 

On Behalf of the Minority, - - 201 

On the Road to Riches, - - -445 

Our Joe’s at Horae Again, - - 13(4 

Playing the Game, - - - 280 

Pretty Good World, - 83 

Quit Grieving, .... 293 

Rolling on to Glory, - - 219 

Say Good-bye to Sorrow, - - 241 

See the Side Show, - - 4 

Shadow and Shine, - - - - 285 

Signs of Winter, - - - - 144 

Sing a Little, - - - 172 

Sing a Song of Sunshine, - - - 128 

Something Left, - - 1S4 

So Santa Claus’ll Come, - 148 

Stand Pat, - - - - - 89 

Still Going, * 288 

Still Onward, 312 

Sunny Side Out, ■ - 233 

Sunshine or Shadow, ... 253 

Teddy's on a Hunting Trip. - - 255 

Thanksgiving Hymn. - - - 130 

Thank the Lord for Work, - - 127 

That New Year Resolution, - - 192 

The Baby’s Hand. ... 244 

The Blossom Wavs, - - - 275 

The Books,.310 


Contents. 


The Bright Day, 

The Call of the Fiddle. 

The Call of the Master. 

The Candidate, 

The ( harity Ball. 

The Christmas Fiddles, 

The Darky’s Heaven, 

The Days, 

The Defeated, 

The Glorious Fourth. 

The Glory Train. 

The Gods and the Man-Child. 
The Good Times Song, 

The Greatest Gift. 

The Grip of the Prairies, 

The Harvest Time, 

The Journey, 

The Lights of Home, 

The Little Boy Land, 

The Little Feet, 

The Legislative Pass, 

The Lord is Good to Me, 

The Meadows of Morning, 

The Meal Ticket Man, 

The Negro’s Warnii g. 

The Rim of the Circle. 

The Quest, - 
The Quest for Joy, 

There’s No Use to Worry, 

The Sage, - 
The Santa Claus Boy. 

The Sunny Side, 

The Sunshine Song, 

The Sunshine Way 
The Third House, 

The Valley of Rest, 

The Weather Man’s Mistakes, 
The Women and the Bill, 

The World All Right. 

Too Busy, 

To One Departed. 

To the Light, 

To the Lonesome Fiddle. 

To the Love Lands, 

To the World, 

Toss a Kiss to Care, 

Trudge Along, 

’Twill All Come Right, 


PAGE. 

- 81 

- 163 
242 

21 

153 
146 

49 

- 235 
102 

25 

80 

266 

199 

165 

302 

11 

306 

124 

67 

72 

187 

110 

304 

134 

37 

- 278 
77, 285 

93 

29 

311 

154 
212 
122 
140 

- 170 

90 
56 
150 
86 
- 95 

42 
118 
160 
177 
78 
24 
180 
157 


Contents. 


PAGE. 

Uncle Joe and Statehood, - - 209 

Upward, - 292 

Wait Awhile, .... o *3 

We Sat and Talked of Other Days, 84 

What Shall it Matter, Dear, - - 34 

When Canderdates Git After Pa, - 108 

When Mr. Money Comes to Town, - 70 

When Pa Pats lip the Stove. - - 132 

When Teddy Squares the Deal, - 264 

When the Hills Come Due, - - 26 

When the Birds Come Back, - - 236 

When the Pampaign Liar Quits, - 126 

When the Crow’s Feet Come, - - 96 

When the Dollar Pounds the Door, - 44 

When the * Phone Bell Rings. - - 36 

When the Roas’in’ Ears air Plenty, - 58 

When the Sad Time Ends, - - 308 

When Trouble Came, - - 196 

When Trouble Comes, My Honey, - 116 

Where Love Abides, - - - 228 

Willie's Easter. .... 370 

With a Song, - 189 

Without Em harassment. - - 269 

You Sang to me, Dear, - - - 296 


PROSE. 

A Doubtful Voter, - - - 113 

A Fine Job, - 180 

A Happy Dream, - 288 

A Hard Winter Ahead, - - - 152 

A Hard World, - - - 175 

An Incurable, - - - 21 

Another Vintage, - - - 112 

A Popular Preacher, - - - 215 

A Quartette of Don’ts, ... 175 

Ate Boys Himself, - - 32 

A Troublesome Set, 5 

Caught on the Fly, 3, 7, 16, 20, 25, 33, 35, 41, 48, 55, 
63, 68 , 71, 73, 81, 85, 94, 98, 107, 1J1. 125, 128. 129, 
137, 142, 156, 158, 169, 179. 183, 188, 191. 194, 208, 

211,219,226,24' .. 

297, 303. 

Duly Thankful. 


131 



Contents. 

PAGE. 

Enough Heaven for Him, - - - 47 

He has Lived in Vain, ... 239 

Hell and Heaven, - - - - 30 

His Platform, 133 

If we Were Wise, - 168 

In the Best Society, 69 

In the Legislature, - 200 

It Died Young, - - - - 176 

Its Principal Work, ... 207 

Life’s Eternities, - - - 234 

Little Sermons, 40, 51. 83, 104, 110, 119, 120, 121, 
123, 143, 145, 153, 159, 175, 181, 187, 191, 195, 206, 
213, 227, 233, 235, 246, 259, 261, 274, 281, 286, 287. 
289, 295. 

Mighty Troublesome, ... 128 

Nice Doctrine, - 138- 

Nobody Hurt, ... . 199 

No Encouragement, 301 

No Room for Bankruptcy. - - 49 

Not Afraid, - 185 

One Drawback, - 144 

Play Ball, - ... 171 

Plenty of Exercise, - - - 52 

Providence Takes Care of his Own, - 113 

Rainy Weather, - - - - 14 

Remembered by Santa Claus, - - 172 

Richly Deserved, - 232 

Small Bills, - 211 

Snake Bit, - - - - - 309 

Sooner Sayings, 247, 248, 258, 259, 268, 275, 277, 
288, 293, 299, 309. 

The Frying Pan, - - - - 76 

The Ignorance of the Court, - - 92 

The Real Article, 53 

The Real Question, - - - 139 

The Same Old Gifts, ... 194 

The Sooners, - - - 88 

The Spirit of Compromise, - - 38 


Contents 


PAGE. 


The Kingbolt Philosopher, 4, 10, 12, 24, 28, 33, 37, 
39, 45, 61, 04, 65, 68, 82. 86, 99. 


Too Much Prosperity, 

- 

- 

159 

Voting Around, 

- 

- 

- 103 

Wanted a Bill or Two, 

_ 


- 197 

Wanted to Hide, 

- 

- 

- 151 

Well Prepared, 

- 

- 

27 

Where Bill Was, 

- 

- 

- 138 



“What Think Ye, Masters, of These 
Things?" 


(H poem reab on 0hlaboma ©a'?, September 6, 1904, 
at tbe Louisiana purchase Exposition.) 

O, ye who frame the sovereign law, 

And heal the hurts of ocean isles 
Till hid are savage tooth and claw 
And Peace above the battle smiles,— 

If Justice reigns and Mercy clings, 

What think ye, Masters, of these things? 

The Father of the Waters greets 
Imperial sisters proud and great, 

And nation mighty nation meets 
At festal boards of lordly state; 

But one—one only,—maketh moan: 

Denied the Star, she weeps alone! 

The cycles fly on eagled wings: 

A hundred years have run their quest 
Since he who bought and sold with kings 
An empire added to the West: 

And all his regions rulers are 
Save her alone who mourns the Star. 

The wildness in a moment died; 

A garden bloomed and fruited full 
Across the plains and valleys wide 
At touch of hands invincible; 

But mute she stands where deserts were: 
The banner holds no Star for her! 


The race heaps high its conquered spoil; 

The braggart heirs of all men do 
Assemble where the Triumphs toil 
In marshaled columns for review; 

And she, the starless, at your call 
Brings trophies that surpass them all! 

Are not her laurels rich and rare? 

Her apt attainments great with grace? 
You crown her here and everywhere 
Save where she pleads for power and place; 
The world amazed her praises rings: 

What think ye, Masters, of these things? 

She wonders wrought with wondrous hands: 

Her c { ties crowd the teeming plains, 

And church and school exalt the lands 
With all of mankind’s greater gains;— 
The last of all the waste, she brings 
The triumphs of her million kings! 

A million white and black and red 
Whose treble toils misunderstood 
Build happy homes and fondly wed 
The desert place with joyous good. 

And at your feet, uncrowned, unblest, 

Kneel for the knighthood of their quest! 

Thralled in her chains, this fairest one 
Of all the realms that greatly found 
Rich largess on the barrens dun 
Pleads from her fetters, vassal-bound; 
And still the Star before her swings: 

What think ye, Masters, of these things? 





















Oklahoma Sunshine 


Dreams. 

I. 

Day dreams and play-dreams! From 
the ro9y morn 

Till the ashy eventide and the stars 
new born, 

Ever bringing life and heart aweary 
with their load 

Promises of hope and cheer while 
tramping down the road. 

II. 

Night dreams and bright dreams! In 
the hou rs of sleep 

With their happy faces full and their 
gazes deep, 

World on world so beautiful there 
they brightly bring, 

Till the heart is happy in the songs 
they sing. 

III. 

Day-dreams and Night-dreams,—all 
the dreams you will,— 

Beckon up the rocky slope and sum¬ 
mon o’er the hill,— 

Summon us to do and dare all the 
deeds of yore 

Till the battle ceases, and we strive 
no more! 


1 



My Philosophy. 


I’ve made up my mind 
In spite of the cranks, 

’Tis a pretty good world 

And weought to give thanks; 
And whether it came 

From the God or the grime, 
The fellow that runs it 
Don’t lose any time. 

I’ve made up my mind 
In spite of the tears. 

That the world clambers up 
With the roll of the years; 
And whether it gropes 
Or is led on and on, 

It will come by and by 
To the meadows of dawn. 

In spite of the sin 
And the folly around, 

’Tis a much better place 
Than the fore-fathers found; 
And in spite of the fools 
And the devils that grieve 
I’m sure in no hurry 
To pull up and leave. 


2 


So shut np your mouth 

And don’t grumble nor croak; 

Go put your poor head 

And your poor heart in soak ; 

Lay all of your sorrows 
And sins on the shelf, 

For the world is all right 
If you’re all right yourself! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

If the girl with a white muslin dress 
and a picture hat has any troubles 
in this world she has a wonderful 
skill in hiding her real feelings. 

Somehow, those men who are all 
the time telling how well money 
talks, never get well enough acquaint¬ 
ed with it to speak with authority. 

“De worst objection to de worter- 
million inOklahomy,” said a Miss¬ 
issippi black man, “is de fact dat it 
gits ripe too late fer de wheat har¬ 
vest an’ tcoyarly fer de cotton-pickin’’ 
The average man grieves more when 
he runs out of chewing tobacco and 
the nearest neighbor who uses the 
filthy weed is three miles away, than 
he does when the mortgage takes the 
farm. Upon what little things doth 
happiness depend! 


3 


A Busy Family, 

Mara’s at a function where you hold 
your breath; 

Liz has got a feller, an’ she’s talkin’ 
him to death ; 

Andy has the measles, Susie’s nussin’ 
Bill, 

Pap is out fer office an’ he’s runnin’ 
fit to kill; 

Pontan’meare fishin’, all the signs 
are right, 

Fer the crick is up a-boomin’ an’ the 

big fish bite! 


* * 

* 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“Ive heerd tell,” said Uncle Ezra 
Mudge, ‘*thet every dog has his day. 
But I’m jest as sartin thet he don’t 
know he’s a havin’ of it when he has 
it. 

“Now, thar was Bill Smith. Bill 
was a high-up chap, made money, 
had a rubber-tired buggy, four girls, 
and chawed terbacker thet cost a 
dollar a pound. But he never knowed 
he was a havin’ of his day ontell he 
went busted on the Board of Trade. 
But now Bill knows it, andhas know¬ 
ed it ever sence he went busted.” 


4 


Don’t Grumble’ 

What’s the use to grumble, what’s 
the use to fret, 

’Cause the cotton’s weedy and the 
days go wet t 

’Tis the Lord that 6orts the weather 
and the sun and rain to you, 

And you needn’t kick and holler 
’cause he don’t explain to you! 
When it rains, don’t get to mopin ! 
There’s more sunny skies than 
clouds, 

And if sorrows drop in singly, why, 
the pleasures come in crowds; 
Black day or bright day, don’t you 
fume and fret, 

When the cotton’s weedy and the 
days go wet! 

* * 

* 

A Troublesome Set. 

“Dese hyar white folks am a trou¬ 
blesome set,” said a Guthrie coon. 
“We hab a great majority ob de city, 
but on ’lection day we nebbergit ober 
half the city council an ’de school 
board, and four drinks apiece. We 
am a-talkin’ of sendin’ ’em back to 
Englan’ whardey belong ef dey don’t 
do better!” 


5 


A Little of Love, 

I. 

With a little of Love, Dear, and some¬ 
thing of Song, 

There’s a glorified courage that con¬ 
quers each wrong, 

And theyears fly as swift as the bird 
on the wing 

Through the snow days of winter 
and rose days of spring. 

II. 

With a little of Love, Dear, and some¬ 
thing of Song, 

There’s no hour that is heavy, no 
day that is long; 

And the soldier of hope scales the 
mountains that meet, 

Till they lay all their trophies and 
gifts at his feet. 

III. 

With a little of Love, Dear, and some¬ 
thing of Song, 

All the mighty exalt, all the feeble 
are strong, 

And the breast bravely bares to the 
breast of the foe, 

And, forever full armored, gives blow 
for his blow ! 




6 


IV. 


Then a little of Love, Dear, and some¬ 
thing of Song 1 

What shall matter the struggle with 
error and wrong? 

For the lilies and roses of gladness 
shall bloom 

Till we sleep the long slumber asdust 
in the tomb! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

It’s no use to try to trot in a race 
where you are out-classcd. Better 
be a good weed-puller at sc much per 
pull, than a member of the legisla¬ 
ture without any pull at all. 

If a woman’s hair is smoothed up, 
her hat on straight and her belt all 
right behind, the other cares and re¬ 
sponsibilities of this life sink at once 
and forever into insignificant noth¬ 
ingness. 

his thing of ‘hitching your wag¬ 
on to a star” may be all right for a 
steady occupation, but the fellow 
who plants garden truck in his back¬ 
yard nights and mornings will have 
more on the table at mealtimes. 


7 


Don't Frown, 


Don’t frown ! 

In the world’s market place, 

Fcr a scowl there’a no price, 

And a long, gloomy face 
Never cuts any ice! 

Look pleasant, look pleased, 

Or as pleased as you can ;— 
With a smile can be seized 
All the great things of man ! 

Don’t frown 1 

Don’t frown 1 
With a smile on your lips 
You can reach to the end 
Of the world’s last eclipse 
Or the heart of a friend ; 

And the things the gods throw 
Over life’s weary mile, 

Are the gifts they bestow 
In return for a smile. 

Don’t frown ! 

Don’t frown ! 

As you walk down the way 

Where the world scatters chalf, 
Light your labors with play 
And your griefs with a laugh! 
And when it’s all o’er 

And you reach heaven’s stile, 
You will get through the door 
If you carry a smile ! 

Don’t frown ! 



Jog Along, 


Jog along, my brother, 

Jog along, I say; 

There’s no cozy corner 

For one that wants to play ; 
Don’t stop to whistle,— 

Whistle good and strong, 

But becareful that you always 
Jog along. 

Jog along, my brother, 

Jog along, I say ; 

Keep yourself in motion,— 

You needn’t stop or stay; 
Someone will hear you 
And will help your song, 

If you do your part and always 
Jog along. 

Jog along, my brother, 

Jog along I say, 

Doing God good service 
Till the final day; 

For He will crown you 
After all the wrong, 

With his choicest blessings, if you 
Jog along. 


9 


The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“There be some things, ” says 
Uncle Ezra Mudge, “that it is best 
to take on faith. I don’t know for 
certain that the devil has split hoofs 
and a forked tail and carries a four- 
tined fork along with him in the hope 
of finding a hay-field handy; but 
rather than make a private appoint¬ 
ment with him to find out, I am 
willing to take the word of the pic¬ 
ture books on the subject.” 

* * 

* 

Whatever weaknesses hemayhave, 
the man who is so thick-skinned that 
he can go on about his regular busi¬ 
ness and pay no attention to the little 
distractions of this life, has a great 
advantage in the world. The rhinoc¬ 
eros would not look well in a beauty 
show, but it can always sleep well, 
even if hundreds of mosquitoes are 
buzzing around hunting for a full 
meal. 

* * 

* 

Spring is that season of the year 
when the new plow-boy and the old 
plow-mule patiently learn again the 
world-wide difference between “haw” 
and “gee.” 


10 


The Harvest Time, 


I. 

The harvest time is over! And across 
the fertile plain 

Stand the winrows of the meadows 
and the stooks of golden grain ; 

And the aching limbs of labor take 
the rest of happy ease 

From the scorching suns of noon-day 
in the shadows of the trees. 

The harvest time is over! And the 
husbandman receives 

For the days of hard endeavor all the 
wealth of garnered sheaves; 

And the land of hill and valley smiles 
exalt with joys untold 

Heaping high above the stubbles in 
the piles of ripened gold ! 

Harvest time! Harvest time! 

Hours of toil are told; 

Hill and valley both rejoice 
With their wealth of gold! 

II. 

The harvest time is over ! After all 
tho years of strife’ 

There’s a joy for every sorrow and a 
crown for every life; 


11 


/ 


And the songs of Heaven’s angels on 
the straining soul arise 
As the weary foot-steps falter on the 
walks of Paradise. 

The harvest time is over I All the 
struggle has surcease! 

After life, the stars above us! After 
battle, love and peace! 

And the glories of achievement that 
atone for sin and strife 
Are the sheaves of good we garner as 
we reap the fields of life! 

Harvest time ! harvest time ! 

Years of struggle gone, 
Joyshall crown thesoul with light 
In eternal Dawn! 

* * 

* 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“Fer accumulatin’ much experi¬ 
ence in a short while and in a raDid 
manner,” said Uncle Ezra Mudge, 
“thar is nothin’ under the sun beats 
a-goin’ to law. With only a toler’- 
ble fair case and a good lively lawyer 
on the other side, a man can git 
enough out of one single law-suit 
suitably appealed, to decently equip 
a whole neighborhood fer at least 
three generations.” 


13 


Mister Cantaloupe. 

Hel>o, Mister Canteloupe, 
When did you arrive? 

Glad to see you, and I hope 
That you’re all alive! 
How-dy do and how-dy do! 

Hope your folks are well, 
And are coming after you 
For to stay a spell! 

Hello, Mister Cantaloupe! 

Please excuse my smile, 

But I’m just so glad, and hope 
You will stay awhile; 

Put ’er here and put ’er there ! 

If you’ve traveled far, 

Come with me and take a chair 
In the dining car ! 


* * 
* 


Life is neither comedy nortragedy, 
but sometimes it pushes up so close 
to both that it keeps a fellow on the 
dodge between smiles and tears. 


13 


r 


Rainy Weather, 


Oar Mud Creek correspondent sends 
us the following items, having to do 
with the recent wet weather: 

“Bill Hughes cut his wheat last 
week. He rigged u p a header attach¬ 
ment to a row-boat, and nipped the 
heads off at the surface of the water. 

“It rained so fast last Saturday 
night at Tad Wilson’s that the water 
couldn’t all run off the roof of his 
new house. The water stood four 
inches deep on top of the comb for 
over half an hour. Then Tad took 
an ax and sharpened the comb so it 
would split the drops better, and the 
water soon ran down. 

“Jem Bilkins’ incubator hatched 
last Wednesday during the heavy 
rain. Jem set only Plymouth Rock 
eggs; but, when they hatched, over 
half of his chickens were ducks. They 
were given web feet by an accommo¬ 
dating providence.” 


14 


Get in the Game- 


Gee in the game of life, ray boy, 

Get in the mighty game; 

There’ll be something of care and 
somewhat of strife 

And something of sin and shame ! 

But after the years and the toils they 
bring, 

Theie’ll be a time of joy, 

If the heart stays sweet and the soul 
can sing. 

So get in the game, by boy. 

Get in the game of life, my boy,— 

That is the game for all; 

For the hazards are sweet and the 
days are rife 

With the fortunes that rise and 
fall; 

But after the losses the triumphs 
stand 

Enemies can’t destroy; 

So get in the game with a full, clean 
hand, 

So get in the game, by boy. 

Get in the game of life, by boy! 

That is the game men play, 


15 



And whether it’s gladness or whether 
it’s strife, 

It lasts to the One Great Day; 
The crowns and the stars and the 
laughs of love 

Beckon with hands of joy, 

Till the soul grows vast in the home 
above,— 

So get in the game, my boy ! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly* 

My son, this world has so much 
work to do that it has not even room 
for a lazy man to sitdown and rest. 
The hen that dosen’t lay, the horse 
that balks, and the cow that refuses 
to give down her milk, don’t get up 
to the feed-rack very long. 

The Athletic Clubs are always in¬ 
venting some new way of giving a big 
strapping cub an adequate form of 
exercise, but the average farmer finds 
more kinds of it than he wants when 
the crab grass gets busy. 

It isn’t every dude that wears pat¬ 
ent leathers and parts his hair is the 
middle, who hasn’t sense enough to 
flag the bread-wagon when it comes 
tearing down the pike. 


16 


Dreaming. 

Let those who prefer it 

Keep hatching their schemes. 

But all through life’s summer 
I’ll cherish my dreams! 

Go on with your struggles, 

Your worries and wrongs; 

I’ll camp with the lillies 
And list to their songs. 

I’ll dream with the daisies 
That sweeten the sod ; 

I’ll dream with the roses 
That whisper of God; 

I’ll dream with the wild birds 
That singof the right, 

And out of the shadows 
Dream garlands of light. 

I’ll dream through the darkness 
Of sorrow and strife, 

Till love brings the morning 
And laurels the life; 

And over the meadows 
My happy feet roam, 

Still dreaming, still dreaming, 
Till Love takes me home ! 


17 




A Jolly Good Game, 


I. 

You may talk as you please about 
Life’s necromancy;— 

’Tis a journey of smiles or of tears as 
you fancy— 

For I always have found,—and I’m 
happy to say it,— 

’Tis a jolly good game if one knows 
how to play it! 

II. 

The Dealer sits yonder,—the hands 
that he serves us— 

The brains aDd the beauty and cour¬ 
age that nerves us,— 

And strength for the struggle; and 
then he gives'warning, 

To play to the ceiling till dawn of the 
morniDg! 


III. 

And mighty the stakes that he sets 
us to try for! 

Fame, Fortune and Honor, and Love, 
that men die for ! 

The Sword, or the Crown, or the Star, 
or the Garter, 

And all the high winnings men bar¬ 
gain and barter 1 


18 


IV. 


He deals us the hand,—and no one 
may discard it! 

The game must go on with no pow¬ 
er to retard it 1 

And whether the hand be a good one 
or bad one, 

He asks of us only to play it a glad 
one. 

V.' 

Then letpeople talk about life as they 
see it; 

You can make it for you what your 
heart may decree it; 

For I always have found—and I’m 
happy to say it,— 

’Tis a jolly good game if you know 
how to play it I 


A Contented Farmer, 

Wheat-crop heapin’ in de shock, 
Corn jes’keepsa-bumpin’; 
Oats a-.vallerin’ in de sun,— 
Cotton des a-jumpin’! 

Millet, Kafir-corn an’ cane 
Bust their selves a-growin’ ; 
Oklahoma’s home for me 
Till Gabriel goes to blowin’! 



19 


Hell and Heaven. 

“Doan’t tell me dat hell am away 
off yander,” said an old darkey as he 
stood before the display window of 
the vegetable market where a dozen 
water-melons, the first ot the season, 
reposed in unconscious temptation. 
“Dem millyuns cost a dollar apiece, 
an’ 1 hain't got but thirty cents ter 
save me from the bad place. Go ’way, 
man 1 I tell you hell am right hyar, 
an’ hebben only sebenty cents away 1” 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

Of course, it is all right to aim 
high, but it’s the fellow that never 
shoots at all that fails ^o bringdown 
the game. 

After all, the alleged failures of life 
are not of much importance. It is 
what one does with his failures that 
tells the story of his despair or hope. 

When a man is alwaysdressed and 
has his boots on ready for the journey, 
Opportunity comes along in her auto¬ 
mobile and invites him to get in and 
ride with her. 


20 



June Time/ 


Pleasures fond are singing, 
Love, for you and me, 
And the moments bringing 
Joys of land and sea! 

June-time is tune-time! 

Don’t you hear the song? 
All the time is love time 
Where the roses throng! 

Don't you sigh or sorrow ! 

Raptures full and free 
Crown each glad tomorrow, 
Sweet, for you and me ! 

June-time and tune-time, 
Where the roses throng, 
Life-time and love-time 
And the world of song! 

* * 

* 


The Candidate. 

He’s getting So busy, he makes the 
world dizzy, 

His smoke can be seen from afar; 
He kisses the babies and flatters the 
ladies 

And gives the old man a cigar! 


21 



Good-bye, Dear Heart? 

I. 

Good-bye, Dear Heart! I go my own 
sad way, 

And you go yours, and Life is agony; 

And yet I must not weakly beg you 
stay, 

In spite of all your absence means 
to me. 


II. 

Though distance part, though sky 
and sea divide, 

To you I must not reach detaining 
hands; 

The years are many and the world is 
wide, 

And Love’s fair roses bloom in 
many lands. 

III. 

With all the joys and all the wishes 
fond 

My soul sends after you, we can’t 
regret; 

The raptures wait us in the sweet 
Beyond, 

And we shall teach our memories 
to forget. 

22 




IV. 


We meet no more! The hand-clasp 
and embrace, 

The hot, mad kiss, the crash of 
lips to lips, 

The melt of eye and tender flush of 
face,— 

These all for us have passed to last 
eclipse. 


V. 

So, good-bye, Dear I Good-bye for 
evermore! 

Adown the years our halting feet 
shall press, 

Our lone hearts wander, till the quest 
is o’er, 

And Love shall lead us back to 
happiness! 


23 




The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“I’ve knowed some mighty fine 
scholars in Aggers,” said Uncle Ezra 
Mudge, “that never could calkilate 
the problem of humm life. Purtv 
near every feller when he gets to fig- 
gerin’ on it, tries to git the Almighty 
Dollar fer the answer, and it won’t 
figger out. I’ve seen lots of men in 
my time an’ I never seed oneyit that 
money made happy. An ’ if happi¬ 
ness ain’t the answer to all this here 
figgerin’ an’ foolin’ an’ fightin’, then 
I give it up. 

“I’d ruther have Myrandy sing 
‘Ole Fokes at Home’ when I’m lone¬ 
some like than to hev $10 Williams 
layin’ around all over the place. It’s 
more comp’ny to me, a whole lot 
more! ” 

* * 

* 

Toss a Kiss to Care, 

Toss a kiss to Care, and say, 
“You are only for a day ; 

You with all your woes andtears 
Never linger through the years. 

Toss a kiss to Care, and be 
Happy in your ecstasy; 

Bid your grief begone, and smile 
With the pleasures for awhile ! 


24 


Caught on the Fly, 

The bass-drum is all right at the 
head of the procession, but the still- 
hunt cuts the most ice in politics 

The up-to-date dude, a-sport with 
patent-leathers and a Panama hat, 
puts on lots of style, but he began 
life as a bald headed and bare-foot 
boy along with the common herd. 

Whenever you see an old maid who 
giddily shies off from the croup when 
the little folks grow wheezy, you can 
put it down as a sure sign that she 
is trying to conceal her age. 


The Glorious Fourth, 

Sister got her new hat wet, 
An’ her white dress fair; 
Mother got a cannon-crack 
’Sploded in her hair; 

Pap got powder in his face 
Shootin’ anville thayre; 
Billy got an’ ear tore off, 
Sammy lost an eye; 

Got two fingers broke myself, 
Fourth o’ ole July ! 


25 


When the Bills Come Due, 

There are many things that bother 
In this mixed up world of ours, 
And the paths we wander over 

Are not always filled with flowers; 
While some days are brightand sunny 
There are others black and blue,- 
And the day that brings the trouble 
When the bills come due! 

When the bills come due, 

After all the debts accrue, 

O, it’s all another story, 

When the bills come due! 

We blow in without a falter 
For most every thing in sight, 
From the dawn of Monday morning 
Till the dark of Sunday night; 

And we dinner on the dainties, 

Robe in garbs of gorgeous hue, 
Butit’s all another story 
When the bills came due. 

O, we chase the rounds of travel, 

On a cruise from shore to shore, 
And no diff’rence what we purchase 
Still we always buy the more; 


26 


It’s a barter every minute, 

Till possessions large accrue, 

But the clouds come down with dark¬ 
ness 

When the bills come due! 

When the bills come due, 

After all the debts accrue, 

O, it’s all another story, 

When the bills come due! 


* «• 


* 


Well Prepared, 

“How are you getting on, Mose?” 
asked an anxious creditor of an im¬ 
pecunious colored farmer. 

“Wull, boss, pickin’s kinder slim 
erroun’ de cabin jes’ now, but I’m 
a livin’ in hopes. I’ve got two yakers 
er cotton’s dat’s middlin’ fine, an’ 
ten yakerser worter-millyuns dat am 
de bes’ I ever see; an’ ef I doan’t git 
er millyun yakers er hebben dis fall, 
I miss my guess mighty bad!” 




The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“Thar’s nuthin’ in all this world 
so dog-cheap ez advice.” said Uncle 
Ezra Mudge. “I’ve give my seven 
boys enough advice off an’ on to fix 
over the world an’ finish up Heaven, 
an’ ’en they don’t kuow enough to 
let cigarettes alone, even. Thar’s 
nuthin, arter all, thet teaches a boy 
so quick es a lickin.’ When he gits 
lammed all ter pieces by some kid 
thet he kep’ a-pickin’ at till good 
natur’ fergot ter be a vartue, an’ 
pasted him several between the eyes, 
he may not look so purty but he will 
know two or three things so blamed 
well he’ll never fergit ’em ontell 
Gabriel blows his conk shell in the 
mornin’ 1 

* * 

* 

Life may be One Grand Sweet Song 
but we are generally furnishing the 
music by pounding the bass-drum 
for the fellow who is pounding the 
bass-drum for us. 

* * 

* 

“Love’s young dream” may be the 
sweetest thing in life, but there is 
nothing like pork gravy and hot 
biscuit for sticking to the ribs. 


28 


<# There's No Use to Worry," 

There’s no use to worry, 

When trouble appears, 

For she leaves in a hurry 
And bottles her tears; 

There’s a song for each sorrow, 
A smile for each grief, 

And the joys of tomorrow 
Bring happy relief. 

There’s no use to worry ! 

This world’s a good place, 

If you fly from its flurry 
And keep a bright face; 

There is never a sorrow 
That sickens the soul, 

If you wait for the morrow 
And let the cares roll! 

* * 

* 

A Prayer, 

Lord, as I journey down the way, 
Grant me good worK for every day, 
And, till my labor here is past, 

To work with Thee until the last! 

* * 

* 

Words are poor vehicles for the 
carrying of thought. The glance of 
only onebrighteye can tell a sweeter 
story than was ever written out in 
all the books of men. 


29 


A Song of Green Valleys, 

I. 

ASong of Green Valleys,-—the valleys 
new born 

With the gold of the wheat and the 
green of the corn, 

Where the roses arise from the dews 
of the night 

And the paths for Love’s feet are 
a-swoon with delight 1 

II. 

The Voice of the Valleys ! The brooks 
to the seas 

Mingle multiplied praises with Love’s 
lullabies, 

And the shouts of glad children 
exultingly rise 

From the daisies of earth to the stars 
of the skies. 

III. 

The calm of the Valleys! The rap¬ 
tures increase 

With the calls of content and the 
pleasures of peace, 

And th8 homes of the happy their 
gladness engage 

From the rose-days of youth to the 
snow-days of age. 


IV. 


The bliss of the Valleys! There life 
blossoms sweet, 

And the night-time aod noon time in 
melody meet, 

Til! the sorrows that sadden the 
the care-clouded day 

Find the smiles ever beaming and 
vanish away. 


V. 

A Song of Green Valleys! 0, joys 
that they bring 

Where the breeze whispers love in 
the love-days of spring, 

And the songs of the thrush from the 
love gardens float 

With the music that spills from the 
mocking-bird’s throat! 

VI. 

A Song of Green Valleys! 0, valleys 
that spread 

From the croon of the babe to the 
dirge of the dead, 

Beyond the long journey we leave 
you,—but then, 

God grant we 3hall meet you and 
have you again ! 


31 


Ate Boys Himself. 

He was a four year old Oklahoma 
Fountleroy, in knee-pants, and with 
golden curls that would make an 
angel envious. His face still wore 
the divine beauty of the cradle, and 
his large, luminous eyes reflected an 
innocence unspotted of the world. 

But the carpenter on the building 
did not appreciate hiscompany. He 
was always in the way. So the car¬ 
penter thought he would frighten 
him away, by a story of horrible 
danger, 

“Do you see that big man coming 
there?” said thecarpenter to him. 

The child nodded assent. 

“Well,’’ continued the carpenter; 
“you would better run away before 
he gets you. That big man eats a 
boy for breakfast every morning,and 
he may eat you.” 

A look of ineffable scorn slowly 
penetrated beneath the curls. The 
large, innocent eyes took on an 
expression of supreme contempt. 
Then the angel indifferently said: 

“I ate a boy once; he was anigger!” 


32 


Caught on the Fly, 

A drummer is known bythestories 
he tells. 

Don’t be in a hurry to do a mean 
thing.- You’ll have plenty of time to 
get sorry if you put it off until day 
after tomorrow 

When a maD stops to count the 
cost of a noble deed, temptation has 
already stormed and captured the 
fortifications of his honor 

The $1 bill is a very popular brand 
among the people, bat if history 
makes no mistake, it takes the 
$1,000 bill to secure votes iu the 
Missouri legislature. 

* 

* * 

The Klng'bolt Philosopher, 

“I notice,” said Uncle Ezra Mudge, 
“Thet the self-made man is always 
kept so busy tollin’ about the fine 
job of work he turned out, thet he 
never has time to get the roof on an’ 
the doors an’ winders hung. A self- 
made feller generally shows a rough 
job put together with dull tools an’ 
in mighty poor taste when you git to 
look in’ at it real dost, an’ it could 
be mightily improved on by a middlin’ 
sight of polishin’, wood-filler an’ 
hard-oil, well rubbed in!” 


33 


"What Shall It Matter, Dear?" 


What shall it matter, Dear, how goes 
the weather.— 

We with our hands and our hearts 
linked together,— 

We with our faces, till daisies we’re 
under, 

Set to the skies with their welcomes 
of wonder. 


II. 

What shall it matter, Dear, how goes 
the battle? 

Something is greater than all of its 
rattle. 

Something that gladdens the heart 
with the story 

Telling of Love and Love’s infinite 
' glory. 


III. 

What shall it matter, Dear, how the 
world use us? 

’Tis but a show and its antics amuse 
us! 

World that knows nothing of all our 
sweet gladness 

And of the love that dispels every 
sadness! 


34 


t 


IV. 

What shall it matter, then, what 
shall it matter? 

Peace still awaits after all of earth’s 
clatter! 

Peace still awaits,all our love-dreams 
adorning, 

There in the bliss of the Glorified 
Morning! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

Life’s experiences are very much 
the same as when we go fishing. The 
biggest fish always gets away. 
But even then we have a pretty good 
feast on the minnows. 

Yesterday is life’s departed king; 
tomorrow holds all the possibilities 
of clown and emperor Only today 
wears the glittering crown and the 
purple robes of power. 

Don’t pray for what you want, and 
quit with the prayer. Spit on your 
hands and grab it as it hurries by. 

* * 

* 

The lawn-mower is quite a play 
thing for the city-bred man, but in 
the interest of humanity he ought to 
be vaccinated against the back ache. 


)' 


35 


"When the 'Phone Bell Rings." 


It’s do difference what you’re doing, 
Whether you’re asleep or ain’t, 
When the ’phone begins pursuing 
It will catch you,—no complaint! 
For its call is strong and steady, 
And it always answer brings, 

For you hurry with your “ready !’’ 
When the ’phone bell rings! 

0, it interrupts your vision 
With its long, unceasing howl; 

It dispels your dreams elysian 
With insistence fresh and foul! 

O, it summons you at meal-times 
With a joy that staysand clings, 
Till you swear it’s always de’il-times 
When the ’phone bell rings! 

It’s no matter whereyou’re straying,- 
In the garden, barn or bed, 

There’s no time to spend in praying. 

Or in playing, quick or dead; 

And if Gabriel “in that morning” 
W’ants a good old trump that swings, 
Just let “central” sound his warning 
While the ’phone bells rings ! 


36 


The Negro's Warning, 

Doan’t yuh grumble, brudder! 

Doan’t yuh nebber doubt it, 
Debbil gwineter gif yuh 
’Foh yuh think erbout it I 
Put yuh in de iurn-works 
Whar de sinnah weeps, 

Loadin’ up deinjines 

Shovehn’ coal fer keeps! 

* * 

* 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“I’ve offen noticed,” said Uncle 
Ezra Mudge, as he slowly filled his 
Missouri meerschaum with Virginia 
twist,—“I’ve offen noticed thet nerve 
is the most vallyble asset in the 
credit items of human life. The 
pore man thet’s got a plenty of it is 
an uncrowned king with pears’s an’ 
di’monds at his command, but the 
king thet lacks it will soon be un¬ 
crowned too. When a rich man er a 
famous man gits down in the mouth 
onct an’ loses his nerve, it’s all day 
with him in a minnet, an’ a rope or 
a six-shooter gineraily winds him up. 
But if a feller hangs on to his nerve, 
he is alright fer the sighi s and scenes 
of this world an’ he needn’t be nus- 
sin’ any worries ’bout the next one.” 

3? 


"Hands Around, My Honey/' 


Sparrow on the wagon-shed, 
Chirping with a will; 

Robin in the cherry-tree 
Warblin’ fit to kill! 

Every thing’s rejoicin’, 

Hidin’ of the wrong,— 

So hands around, my honey, 

And we’ll join the song! 

Mock-bird on the chimney top,— 
How that rascal mocks,— 
Spillin’ songs of melody, 

From his music-box! 

Over all the live-long place 
All the pleasures throng, 

So hands around, my honey, 

And we’ll join the song! 

* * 

* 

The Spirit of Compromise, 

“I done heah dat de dimmycrats 
kinder comp’omised at de St. Looey 
convention meetin’,” said old Black 
Mose. “I tell you, man, dat com’- 
p’omisin’ bis’ness am a great thing, 
suah! My ole woman en’ me hez 
quahled en’ fit en’ fussed erroun’ 
fer nigh fohty yeahs ober wheddah I 
should pack in de watah er chop de 
wood; en’ we fin’ly comp’omised de 
mattah by hur a doin ob ’em bofe!” 


38 


Best of AIL 


Pie-millon, eantaloope; 

Musk-million tall; 
Butdeblessed worter-million 
Am de bes’ of all! 

Whar de worter-million grows, 
Hebben’s darbechunede rows! 


* * 

* 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“It hain’t so much difference what 
kind of work you do as how you do 
it,'’ said Uncle Ezra Mudge. “The 
feller thet sets around an’ kicks on 
the kind of a job he has never gits 
many others offered him, while the 
chap thet does good work at what- 
sumever he gits giner’ly finds a 
ladder to climb up to the top. 

“I reckon David out there herdin’ 
the sheep never kicked much on his 
job, an’ I’ll bet four ’coon-skinsthet 
he wuz the best sheep-herder in all 
the Promised Land, er the Lord 
wouldent a-picked him out an’ set 
him to work at the job of bein’ king. ” 


39 


4 


Little Sermons, 

Where the wor'd is going is not of 
much consequence. It’s where you 
are going that cuts the ice. 

When the sermon gets over thirty 
minutes long, the Devil comes to 
church and takes a seat in the Amen 
corner. 

Heaven is in every man’s easy 
reach, but some are too contrary to 
even tip toe for the blessings of the 
other Kingdom. 

V 

"Don't Worry or Fret, My Dearie!” 

Don’t worry or fret, my dearie! 
The shadows will soon go by ; 

Before half your tears have vanished 
The sun’s in the happy sky; 

There’s trouble enough, my dearie, 
In days of a glad life long, 

But Sorrows will die with no one to 
sigh 

With Love and a little of Song! 

* * 

* 

There are some things about “our 
island possessions” which will bear 
imitation this hot weather. The 
costumes of the Igorrotes, for in¬ 
stance. 


40 


Caught on the Fly, 

Mr. Knowing How commands a 
princely salary while Hard Work is 
on the bum hunting for wages. 

Some people are so anxious for 
happiness thatthey make themselves 
miserable in running it down. 

Whether we learn much in the 
school of experience or not, we all 
register for the full term and pay the 
entire tuition mentioned in the cata¬ 
logue. 

Charity is something of which the 
mills of human life never turn out an 
over-production. Even some of the 
blessed saints could use a little more 
in their daily walk and conversation. 

* * 

* 

Hope, 

All the path is dark with shadows 

And the road is hard to see, 

But there’s sunshine on the hill tops 

And that’s the way for me! 

* * 

* 

There are many blessings in this 
world, but a shade-tree at the end of 
the cotton row, and a water-melon 
cooling in a seventy-foot well are two 
of its greatest joys. 


41 





To One Departed, 


I. 

This life, Dear Heart, seems all so 
small and mean 

Since thou art gone,--its prizes 
vagueand vain, 

Its efforts fruitless and itsglories lean, 

And all its heaped-up treasures 
worthless gain I 

II. 

Amid them all my slow teet wander 
lone,— 

Mv heart cries hopeless for its per¬ 
fect mate; 

The fancies murmur and the longings 
moan 

For thee whose absence leaves me 
desolate. 


III. 

Yet, somewhere, somehow, in the 
years that shine 

With God’s perfected wisdom 
throned above, 

I know thou wait’st my coming, with 
divine 

Enraptured welcomes of supremest 
love. 


42 


IV. 


The Vision beckons, and I fix my gaze 
Unchanging to the promise of the 
skies: 

The full fruition of these lonely days 
Dwells in the heaven of thine angel 
eyes! 


V. 

What matter, Dear, though dullard 
thousands throng 

Andjostle rudely at Life’s holy 
feast? 

The dull ears hear no tender strains 
of Song, 

And they that know Love best 
know Love the least. 

VI. 

And still with yearning hands that 
longing grope 

And straining eyes that search to 
pierce the doom, 

I creep the path ways of my only 
Hope, 

And seek the Loved One passed 
beyond the Gloom ! 


43 


When the Dollar Pounds the Door. 


It’s no matter how exclusive 
Men may be in social ways, 

And how uppishly their manners 
Every one of them displays; 

Born to home-spun or the purple, 
Very rich or very poor, 

They’re at home to every caller 
When the Dollar pounds the door ! 

They may dwell in stately mansions 
With extensive yards and grounds ; 
They may run their automobiles 
And play golf through all the 
rounds; 

But within their mountain villas 
Or resorts by ocean shore, 
They’re at nome to every caller 
When theDollar poundsthe door. 

Whether in the humble station 
Or the mighty seats of state, 
Eating crusts to banish hunger 
Or a-feast on fruits of fate,— 
There’s no one who’s found for¬ 
getting 

That great lesson taught of yore, 
For they’re home to every caller 
Whenthe Dollar pounds thedoor. 

Mister Dollar, Mister Dollar 1 
You have such a winning way. 


44 


I 


That I’d like you in the fam’ly 
Every hour of every day ! 

And no matter where I’m staying, 
Please break in with rush and roar 

For I’m always glad to see you, 

Mr. Dollar, at the door? 

* * 

* 

The Kingbolt Philosopher. 

“I’ve wunder’d through this vale 
of sunshine for about sev’nty years,” 
said Uncle Ezra Mudge, as he filled 
his Missouri meerschaum for the 
twentieth time, “an’ I never yit seen 
a feller thet amounted to shucks who 
wuz alius a-hangin’ on to someone 
else. The pore soul thet hain’t got 
enough git up an’ git to him to 
strike out fer hisseif an’find a path 
of his own through the woods is 
mighty nigh sartin to git lost in the 
brush. 

“Purty nigh ev’ry feller I evei 
knowed thetdid anything wuth while 
did it by usin’ the climbers on his 
own legs. Ef he stau’s ’round waitin’ 
to borry somebody else’s tools, he 
wastes a mighty sight of his own 
time an’ don’t know how to use ’em 
when the other fellergits ready to be 
accommedatin’!’’ 


45 


Don't You Grumble, 


I. 

Don’t you grumble at the weather 
when the clouds are hanging flat, 
For the sun will soon be shining and 
you’ll have to growl at that, 

And before in working order you your 
growler well have got, 

You will have to change its focus for 
another kind of shot! 

II. 

Don’t you grumble at the 'fortune 
that the Fates incline to send! 
If it’s good, rejoice with gladness; if 
it’s bad, why, make it mend; 
And before you hit the gravel for the 
world beyond the years, 

Things will balance pretty even 
through the tangled smiles and 
tears. 


III. 

Don’t you grumble at the meanness 
that heaps up your path with 
wrong! 


46 


There are golden hearts of goodness 
that are full of love and song, 
And along the ways you wander all 
their anthems ever rise 
Like a chorus of the angels from the 
mansions in the skies! 


IV. 


Don’t you grumble at the weather! 

Don’t you growl around at fate ! 
In this world Of life and labor, you 
must fish or cut the bait; 

And if here you’re always fretting 
o’er each little sob and sigh, 

You will hardly relish heaveD when 
you reach the Bye and Bye. 

* 

* * 


Enough Heaven for Him, 

“Go ’way, man!” said an observ¬ 
ant Logan county darkey. “Doan’t 
yuh come en talk to me erbout gittin’ 
rich er bein’ pooah ! Nary one ob 
dem things bodders me. Ef perliti- 
cal campaigns’ll jes’ las’ all de time 
en canderdates run all de yar roun’, 
dis worl’ll behebben ernuff fer me!” 


47 


"Keep Away from Trouble/' 

Keep away from trouble,— 
Keep away, I say 1 
He will double, double, 

If you walk his way ; 

Go the other path-way ; 

Pass the rascal by ; 

Keep your face a-smiling 
For the glory-sky! 


* 


* 


Caught on the Fly, 

The man that can’tfind any heaven 
in this world of sunshine has no 
promise of getting a chance to hunt 
for it in the next. 

David said in his haste that all men 
are liars; and the Good Book does not 
record that he took it back after he 
had plenty of time to think it over. 

The sublime faith that moves 
mountains and conquers kingdoms 
is frequently helpless and hopeless 
against the clatter of a garrulous 
tongue. 


48 


The Darky's Heaven, 

I sho’ly doan’t know 
Whut soht ob a place 
Dat de Lawd’s fixin’ so 
Foh his own culled race; 

But ef he “in dat day” 

Wants de dahkeys ter catch, 
Give ’em banjoes ter play 
In a big millon patch ! 

Millon patch thet’ssolong 
Dey can nevah gitcross it, 

En a feller uot strong 

Jes’ purtendin’ ter boss it; 
Whar nebber’s a dog 
Ter molest whut yuh swipe, 
En wharebber yuh jog 
A 11 de millons ah ripe! 

* * 

* 

No Room for Bankruptcy, 

Things ah sholy lookin’ up ahroun’ 
de cabin dese heah days!” said the 
jubilant darkey. “With watah-mil- 
lons crowdin’ de cohn-rows full, de 
cotton laid by, en fohty canderdates 
runnin’ foh office, de bankrup’cy 
cou’t am moah den foh hund’ed 
miles away, shuah!” 


49 


Minnows and Big Fish, 


In the happy days of childhood, 
By the river’s rushing tide, 
Where the crystal waters murmured 
Over all the ripples wide, 

It was perfect joy to angle 

Through thespring time’s laugh¬ 
ing day 

Though we only caught the minnows 
And the big fish got away. 


’Twas no matter how we waited, 
How we watched with anxious 
eyes,— 

For the finny tribe to yield us 
Captures of enormous size; 

There was always disappointment 
Filling us with deep dismay, 

For w T e only caught the minnows 
And the big fish got away ! 

Audit’s much the same in man¬ 
hood ! 

As we line the stream of life, 
Fishing for the fame and fortune 
In the waters full of strife,— 


50 


\ 


It's no matter how we angle 

As the young years turn to gray, 
We can only catch the minnows 
And the big fish get away ! 


But the sport, the sport, is royal, 
And it never had a match! 

So it's really unimportant 
As to what we lose or catch ! 

Let us use our highest efforts 
Till the Father calls to say : 

“ What a splendid mess of minnows 
Though the big fish got away !” 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons, 

Christianity and religion are great 
things, but a holy life knocks the 
8pots off them both in the long run. 

W T ealth comes from toil and sacri¬ 
fice, but the treasures of the heart 
are vaccinated with love and are the 
parents of all real happiness. 

There is no use to spend any time 
in worrying about the next world. 
Take care of the world you have, and 
the next one will take care cf itself 
and you, too. 


\ 


51 




It’s better to whistle than cry, broth¬ 
er, 

It’s better to whistle than cry; 

The day may be gloomy and dreary 

And black with the storms of the 
sky; 

But whistle your heart to the sorrows ! 

They’ll smile asthey hurryyou by 1 
It’s better to whistle than cry, broth¬ 
er, 

It’s better to whistle than cry l 

* * 

* 

Plenty of Exercise, 

“Mary Jane,” said Farmer Jim to 
his wife as he pondered over the 
letter just received from their boy 
Silas who was away at College; 
“Mary Jane, what does Si mean 
about all this ’tarnal athletic busi¬ 
ness he’s a-talkin’ of?’’ 

Mary Jane had been a school-teach¬ 
er before she married Farmer Jim, 
and so she quickly explained : 

“Why, he means dumb-bells and 
Indian clubs and trapezes and such 
things, to give exercise to the boys, 
father.” 

“Wull, I’ll be dumb-belled ef I 
had him out yander in the cotton- 
field a-choppin’ out the crab-grass, I 
guess he’d git all the exercise he 
wanted !” snorted Farmer Jim.' 


52 


“Away With the Sorrow,” 


Away with the sorrow, 

The troubles and tears! 

We’ll laugh with the morrow 
Through all of the years. 

Away with the errors 
That scourge as a rod ! 

Our sins and our terrors 
Shall vanish with God. 

The sob of our sadness 
Shall cease bye and bye; 

Away to the gladness,— 
We’re bound for the sky. 


V 


The Real Article, 

“Doan’t yuh talk ter me erbout 
yoh tahrpinen clam-bakesen yoistah 
fries!” exclaimed a recently arrived 
Guthrie coon. “Des’gib me sweet- 
’taters smotahed in ’possum gravy 
en all baked brown like we uster hab 
’em down in ole Miesiss : pp! Go’ way, 
niggah! Dat wuz high-libben like 
de real ahticle, I done tole ye!” 


53 


The Bright Side, 


I. 

The bright side 1 The bright side ! In 
spite of wind and snow, 

The summer comes in beauty and 
buds and blossoms grow, 

And whatsoe’er the fortune that 
brings the rose or rue, 

A kindly Heart in heaven is taking 
care of you 1 


II. 

The bright side! The bright side 1 
Through all the hours of fright, 

The holy stars are watching you with 
sentinels of light, 

And no matter how the sorrows may 
darken all the day, 

The pleasures come in legions and 
drive their ghosts away. 

III. 

The bright side! The bright side! 
Though disappointments throng, 

Sweet labor lifts the burden and sat* 
isfies with song, 

And after all the sadness that shades 
the rugged life, 

There’s glory for the struggle and 
slumber for the strife. 


54 


IV. 


The bright side! The bright side! 

The side that’s always there 
Across the ways I wander and all 
the paths of care; 

No matter what the darkness, the 
storm of land or sea, 

The bright side still is shining, and 
that’s the side for me! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

Don’t cry over spilled milk. , Tie 
up another cow. and try it again. 

Don’t trail over the world hunting 
for happiness with a candle, when 
the sunshine of God’s mercy is over 
every thing. 

Who can understand the deeps and 
heights of another’s nature? Nay, 
who can measure and comprehend 
even his own ? 


* * 
* 


Four-tined forks are splendid im¬ 
plements ir the hay-field, but any 
fork is a mighty poor thing to impale 
the gorgeous bliss reposing in a ripe 
water-melon’s ruddy heart. 


55 



The Weather Man's Mistakes, 


No doubt, we all have troubles 
That arise from this and that, 
And we seldom make a home-run 
Though we’re often at the bat; 
But the prince of all the fellows 
That performs the wildest breaks, 
Is the chap that brings the burdens 
Of the weather man’s mistakes. 

“Sunday, fair and cool and pleasant” 
So you hie yourself away 
To the wild-wood sweet and shady 
For a joyous, happy day ; 

Then the rain comes down in tor¬ 
rents 

Till it drowns the very snakes, 
And you have a high example 
Of the weather man’s mistakes. 

“Wednesday, storm, perhaps a 
cyclone 1” 

So you stay at home and wait, 
With your windows tightly shut¬ 
tered 

For a hurricano great; 


56 


Butic’sall as mild as morning, 

A od you shout, ‘ Of all the fakes !” 
While you grumble, wildly helpless, 
At the weather mar’i mistakes. 

And some day a patient people 
Turned to furies by theirwrongs, 
Will arise and smite the building 
Where the weather man belongs; 
And whatever then shall happen, 
They will know the joy that wakes, 
When no longer made to suffer 
From the weatherman’s mistakes ! 


* * 
* 


In Supplication. 

Dear Lord, I ask not that I live so 
long 

That all the joy is gathered,all the 
rose; 

But rather let me perish, ere the Song. 
The highest Hope and perfect Vis¬ 
ion close ! 


57 


"When the Roas'inVEars Air Plenty" 


I. 

Talk about the joys of winter ! Whut’s 
the fun of foolin’ round 
With the posies dead en buried, en 
the snows upon the ground? 
When the wind’s a-tossin’ blizzards 
in a most distressin’ way 
Tell you have to set a straddle of the 
fire-place all the day ! 

But I tell ye life’s a-livin’ when the 
summer grows the grass 
Over all the nooksen crannies whayre 
a feller’s feet kin pass, 

En the whole world seems of heaven 
but a half-forgotten type, 

Wnen the roas’in’ears air plenty en 
the worter-millons ripe 1 

II. 

Roas’in’-ears is best of eatin’, though 
not very much fer style! 

Shuck an arm-full fer yer dinner, sot 
’em on en let ’em bile; 

Salt ’em well, en smear some butter 
on the juicy cobs ez sweet 
Ez the lips of maple-suger thet yer 


58 


sweet-heart has to eat! 

Talk about ole Mount O'ympus en 
the stuff them roosters spread 
On theyr tables when they feasted,— 
nectar drink, ambrosia bread,— 
Why, I tell ye, fellers, never would I 
swop the grub I swipe 
When the roas’in’ ears air plenty en 
the worter millons ripe ! 

III. 

Near the sugar camps of glory is the 
worter millon patch 
Like a great big nest of goodies thet 
is jest a-gone to hatch ; 

En ye take yer thumb en finger in 
an ecs< asy so drunk 
Thet ye hardly hear the music of 
theyr dreamy plunky-plunk ! 

En the griefs air gone ferever, en the 
sorrers lose control 
Ez ye feed the angel in ye on the 
honeys of a soul, 

En ye smack yer lips with laugnter 
while the birds of heaven pipe, 
When the roas’in’-ears air plenty en 
the worter-millons ripe! 


59 


IV. 


I 


0, the darlin’ days of summer when 
the stars of plenty shine 
With the apples in the orchard en 
the graps upon the vine! 

When the hedges bud en blossom, en 
the medders rich en rare 
Breathe the perfumes of the clovers 
like an incense every whayre! 

En the world seems like yer mother, 
with the tender hands thet bless 
Ali the restless race of struggle with 
a heaped-up happiness, 

En her ban’kerchiefs of glory from 
yer eyes the weepin’s wipe, 
When the roas’in’-ears is plenty en 
the worter-millons ripe! 



60 


Don’t You Fret. 


Don’t you fret about the weather 
’Cause it seems a little hot; 

You will find it rather sultry 
Over yonder, like as not! 

And unless you mend your manners 
You will land without a doubt, 
Where the brim-stone keeps a blazin’ 
And the fire is never out ! 

* 

* * 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“In spite of whut somefellers say, 
this world never owed anybody a 
livin ’ yit!’’ said Uncle Ezra Mudge, 
as he whetted his scythe and tried 
the edge on the broad part of his 
thumb. “Thet heresy wuz invented 
fer the lazy cuss thet wuz too ornery 
to git up in the mornin’ and hustle 
fer grub while the grass wuz wet. 

“Some fellers seem ter act on the 
habit thet the world not only owes 
’em alivin’ but air willin’ fer some 
body else to do the collectin’ fer’em. 
Leastways, they never do much 
hustlin’ in thet direction theirselves. 
En I he'v noticed thet when other 
fellers collect the livin’ fer a fel 
ler, they giner’iy confisticate the 
most ov it in commissions!’’ 


61 


"Doing Pretty Well/’ 


There are many that you meet with 
Who are always full of gloom, 

And they they chew the rag forever 
’Bout the darkness of their doom ; 
But as through the world we journey, 
There’s a joy that none may tell 
When we meet the pleasant people 
Who are “doing pretty well.” 

There are fellows by the dozens 
Who are always in the skies, 

And forever capture fortunes 
Of the most gigantic size; 

But we stagger from their presence 
And their glories that repel, 

For the quiet-spoken persons 
Who are “doing pretty well.” 

0, it’s neither sun nor shadow 
All the time from year to year,— 
And it’s neither all of pleasure 
Or of pain,—the journey here ! 

But whatever clouds may gather 
Or what sunshine, for a spell 
Let us keep a steady temper 
And keep ‘‘doing pretty well 1” 


62 


Caught on the Fly. 


Hitch your wagon to a star, if you 
will, but always stand ready tothrow 
the harness on the mules, also. 

The man who masters the world 
may trust in Providence, but he 
climbs to greatness on the stepping 
stones of hard work. 

In the economy of farmers entirely 
up against the crab-grass in the cot¬ 
ton-patch, the mule is mightier than 
the sword. 


* * 
* 


What shall it matter though sorrows 
distress us? 

God sends the sun and the shadows 
to bless us 1 

And through all the years 
Joy ever appears, 

With a little of love and a little of 
laughter 

To fashion this life for a jolly here¬ 
after 1 


63 


The Kingbolt Philosopher. 


“I want ter 88y,” remarked Uncle 
Ezra Madge as he began his' Sunday 
shaving and stropped his rHZor on his 
thumb-nail, “I want ter say thet ed- 
dication is a big thing, but there air 
some things it can’t do. Oneof ’em 
is ter give brains ter a fool No 
school wuz ever yit found thet could 
change a wooden head ter flesh en 
blood ; enthe pore teachers air bein’ 
continua’ly pestered ter death with 
idiotic payrents a-tryin’ to have ’em 
stuff brains in their kids which the 
good Lord dident give any to. You 
kin plant jimson weeds in thegarden, 
en tend ’em and water ’em, en nuss 
’em the hull season through, en you’ll 
hev only a leetle bigger cropof jimson 
seed at the wind-up. En it’s jest 
thet way when brainless cubs air 
sent off ter collidge 1” And the old 
man wiped his face with a hot towel 
and went on with his shaving. 

* 

* * 

There are many pleasant things in 
this world, but it is the job that 
allows us to get up when we please in 
the morning that makes life one 
grand sweet song. 


64 


In Prayer. 

Beyond the narrow years Thou send* 
eat me, 

Flecked with their sun and shadow, 
tears and wrong, 

Grant me this glory, Father, this to 
see,— 

A world made happy in a world 
made strong! 

* 

* * 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“Them millionairs kin hev all the 
money they want en all the fun they 
kin git outen it,” said Uncle Ezra 
Mudge as he drew on his blue denim 
wampus and whistled for the hounds, 
*‘but I kin git more ra’a! fun en pure 
enjoyment outen a three hour ’coon- 
hunt with oie Lead then they git out- 
on all theyr tom-foolin' aroun’ with 
awty-mobeels en yats en summer ree* 
sorts en sea-side foolishness. It 
takes mighty leetle money ter make 
a man happy thet loves his work, en 
all the millions they kin pile up in 
front of him wouldn't buy a single 
beller from ole Lead on a hot trail ! 
Gome on, Lead!” And the old man 
strode away through the clearing 
with all a boy's enthusiasm for the 
hunt. 


65 


The Little Boy Land, 

I. 

Away in the dim and the dusk of the 
years 

Lies the Little Boy Landof the Soul, 

Where the days are alight with the 
love that endears 

And the lullabies tenderly roll; 

Where the cares never come with 
their burdens of woe 

To the gates of the kingdom of day, 

And the joys are supreme as the lit¬ 
tle feet go 

Through the glorified path ways of 
play. 

II. 

There are beautiful curls in the 
realms over there; 

There are cheeks that are rosy and 
glad; 

There are eyes full of glee, never 
clouded by care, 

Never shadowed by tears that are 
sad; 

Therearetoys for the wishing,—tops, 
marbles and strings,— 

Thereare ponies no hand may con¬ 
trol ; 

And the moments go by on their won¬ 
derful wings 

In the Little Boy Land of the Soul. 


66 


III. 

There are mother’s fond kisses, en¬ 
raptured with love; 

There are joys never sullied with 
stain; 

There are dreams brighter far than 
the dreams born above, 

And the raptures that banish all 
pain; 

And the world is so good that it can¬ 
not be true, 

And its pathsleadto Heart’s happy 
goil, 

While the joys of content every long¬ 
ing imbue 

In the Little Boy Land of the Soul. 

IV. 

O, Little Boy Land! How afar into 
wrong 

From the vales ot your virtues I 
roam! 

Howfar,since the croon ofher lullaby 
song 

I have wandered from mother and 
homel * 

But here is a heart that can never 
forget 

Where the joys of our kingdoms 
yet roll, 

And I see through the mists of the 
eyes that are wet 

All the Little Boy Land of the Soul! 

«7 




Caught on the Fly, 

Faith and hope count a hundred, 
while idleness and discouragement 
are getting ready to figure. 

There are many different motives 
concealed in the various compart¬ 
ments of man’s being, but Vanity 
holds the key that unlocks them all. 

* * 

* 


The King-dbolt Philosopher, 

“The feller thet is so wibbly-wob- 
bly thet he can’t trust his own idees,’ ’ 
said Uncle Ezra.Mudge as he stopped 
in the midst of his wood-chopping 
and leaned up against a log to rest, 
“is the kind of a feller who never 
amounts ter shucks in a cow pen. It 
takes a man who hez kep’ hisself in 
sich a condition thet he knows jist 
whut he kin depend on when the 
firin’ begins, who alius wins in the 
bayonet charge. En it don’t pay to 
fool aroun’ huntin’ up other people’s 
idees before you strike hard licks. 
Ef you do, the chances air your 
wood’ll be scarce when the cold days 
blow aroun’!” And the old man spat 
on his hardened palms and went on 
with his labor. 


68 



X 


In the Best Society, 

“It sho’ly costs like ebryti’ng to 
move in de bes’ socieety at Saint 
Looey!” said a newly arrived Guth¬ 
rie coon to an old resident. “It jes’ 
erbout takes all de money yuh kin 
make to keep up wid de pace ob de 
high-flyahs in dat ole town. So I 
jes’ come down heah whar a pooah 
coon kin hab a good time en save 
some ob de coin on foh dollahs a 
week, en git in de bes’ culled socieety 
foh an ole banjo in de week days en 
two bits in de collection hat on de 
Sunday mohnin’s!” 

* * 

* 

Be Strong to Dare, 

Not he whose craven soul rejects the 
fight 

And flees abjectly from the boom¬ 
ing strife 

Achieves the summits of his greatest 
might 

Upon the blood-red battle-fields of 
life. 

Be strong to dare ! And if the con¬ 
flict’s lost, 

Men boast the fight when misers 
count the cost! 


69 


When Mr, Money Comes to Town, 

When Mister Money comes to town, 
The waiting thousands throng 

The crowded highways up and down 
To see him pass along; 

They cheer him as he passes by, 

They clap with loud acclaim, 

And shout applauses to the sky 
At mention of his name. 

They push and jostle with delight 
No matter what he day; 

They followhimthrough all the night 
To hear what he may say; 

They leave old friends divinely sweet 
To chase this new one down , 

And fall devoutly at his feet 
When Money comes to town. 

Forgotten all the scenes of yore,— 
The joys of other years; 

The perfect bliss that went before 
And gladdened toils and tears; 

Behold! The old things pass away, 
And new ones come to crown 

The dazzling glories of the day 
When Money comes to town. 

0, Mister Money i What’s your rush! 
Why do you hurry so! 


n o 


Entangled up in all the crush, 

I can’t get next, you know I 
Just come and camp with me and 
mine! 

You’ll never see us frown; 

To have you with us will be fine 

Whene’er you come to town 1 

V 

Caught on the Fly, 

When a man barters his honor for 
money, he never gets a chance to rue 
back. 

Running this big world mu9t be 
quite a job, but every man who talks 
politics thinks himself capable of 
bossing the whole works. 

The next crop that needs looking 
up in the quotations is the length of 
the pole required for the persimmons 
about election day. 

* * 

* 

Feelin’ Fine. 

Roas’in’ eahs dar on de stalk,— 
Millons ’tween de rows; 

Eb’ry t’ing a-makin’ talk 
Gin de crop ob woes; 

Hebben come en settles down 
On de millon vine; 

Dis heahdahkey’s shuah in town 
Feelin’ mos’ly fine I 


71 


The Little Feet, 


Little feet that weary so 
Down the dusty roads, 

Pebbled are the paths you go 
With your heavy loads,— 
When the restless hours are o’er 
And you cease to weep, 

Little limbs shall ache no more 
In the arms of sleep. 

Little feet that weary so 
On their journey long, 
Youshall lose the hurts you know 
In the smiles of song! 

All the lullabies of light, 

All the smiles of play, 

Romp across the darks of night 
Into brighest day. 

Little feet that weary so ! 

Come and let me take 
All the heart-aches of your woo 
For your baby’s sake! 

Cuddle on my lap, and flee 
From the world’s distress; 

Let us run away and be 
Where the fairies bless l 


) 


7Z 






Caught on the Fly, 

The fellow that “soldiers” too 
much in the hay-field generally sol¬ 
diers too little in the battle field of 
life. 

The smile is a lightning-express 
train that carries you fast and far, 
while the frown is only a wheel-bar¬ 
row that you have to push along. 

In the battle of life, nothing is 
gained by deserting your guns to the 
enemy. Stand by them till the am¬ 
munition is gone, whether they are 
popguns or flint-locks. 

* * 

* 

If you ever feel inclined to blame 
a man for making mistakes, just look 
in the glass and behold the manner 
of man he is. 

* * 

* 

The Sunday School is undoubtedly 
a good place for a boy, but as a cor¬ 
rective measure it cannot be compar¬ 
ed to an apple-tree limb and a handy 
wood-shed. 

* * 

* 

The folks who sit on the back-steps 
and worry about the future never 
catch any smiles from the present as 
she passes the front gate. 


13 


Love's Dream, 


I. 

Love gave me a Dream in the years 
t.riat have fled 

From theglorifiedjoys of herbeauti- 
ful home, 

And over the world of the living and 
dead 

It has followed forever whereever I 
roam; 

And over the mountains and through 
tne black night 

It has guided my feet with its won¬ 
derful light. 


II. 


It has joyed at the triumphs that 
came with renown, 

And its rapture surpassed what the 
multitudes knew; 

It has grieved at the failure that lost 
me the crown, 

With a faithful devotion unknown 
to but few; 

Through Despair’s heavv shadow and 
Hope’s holy gleam, 

How my lips still were kissed by tne 
lips of the Dream 1 


74 


III. 


It has wept with my sorrow,—the 
sorrow that fell 

Where the heart battled hard with 
the merciless foe; 

It has laughed with my laughter 
when fortone was well 
And the blossoms of triumph were 
blooming below; 

And far through the black and the 
bright of each year 

It has followed my feet till it follow¬ 
ed me here. 


IV. 


O, the Dream that has lived through 
the years of the lost, 

That with constancy shares all the 
paths I have trod, 

Never leave me alone till the harbor 
is crossed 

And I stand in the power and the 
presence of God; 

And on through the ages no glory 
shall seem 

Half so sweet as the love of my Dream, 
—of my Dream 1 


75 


The Frying Pan. 


“With all your talk about neces¬ 
sary house-hold implements,” said 
Sooner Dave, “none of’em is in it 
with the frying-pan,—just the com¬ 
mon, ordinary, every-day frying pan, 
that you chuck under your buck- 
board or tie to your saddle-horn. 
These parlor ornaments, side-boards, 
new-fangeled stoves, potato-mashers, 
coffee-strainers and all the everlast¬ 
ing tribe of culinary jim-craeks have 
to turnout of the trail for the frying 
pan and give it the right of way. 

“With the frying pan for his com¬ 
panion, the civilized idiot is at home 
any where,- prairie or woods, creek 
bank or deer-lick or prairie-chicken 
trysting place. With a frying pan 
and some bacon fat, home is never 
far away, and a full meal is so near 
that heaven comes close to the hun¬ 
gry man. It has fought more battles, 
made more forced marches and won 
more victories than Napoleon. It has 
surveyed lands, bunched cattle and 
soonered claims. It has done all the 
pioneering for the frontiers-man. In 
this one divine utensil, the wanderer 
fries his meat, bakes his flap-jacks 
and brews his coffee; and as they alJ 

IS 


/ 


■come steaming from its exalted cir¬ 
cumference of life-sustaining food, 
what chafing-dish or modern steam- 
cooker was ever waited on by such a 
willing appetite? 

“When I die, 1 ’ continued Sooner 
Dave, “I want a frying pan chiseled 
on my tomb-stone; for it has been 
the sole companion of the truest hap¬ 
piness I have known in this world. 
And if over in the next world there is 
a chance to choose one’s crown after 
the style and finish the wearer may 
•desire, I am going to take my faithful 
old frying pan along and wear it for 
a few thousand years just to fchow 
the angels how much a man can ap¬ 
preciate good things !'” 


* * 


* 


The Quest, 

What matters bog or bramble ot de¬ 
lay,— 

The mountain slope or shore of 
ocean reeds? 

Pursue thy goal! Thy feet shall find 
the way 

Unerringly where thy One Visiom 
leads! 


77 


To the World! 


I. 


To the world! To the world! Let us 
carol its song, 

Let us conquer its grief and the wrath 
of its wrong, 

Till the lilt of its laughter shall 
sweeten the sod 

With the joys of the skies and the 
gladness of God! 

II. 

To tne world! To the world ! Where 
the gleam hides the gloom 

And the lilies of love on the battle¬ 
fields bloom,— 

Where the light of the longing lies 
low on the stream, 

And the soul seeks the crown of his 
dream, —of his dream! 

III. 

To the world! To the world ! To the 
world that we know 

With its sunlights of love and it 
shadows of woe,— 

To the world lifted up, lifted far to 
His face, 

And the mercy that dwells in His 
bountiful grace! 


78 


IV. 


To the world! To the world! It has 
beautiful years 

With the pleasurers of peace and the 
turmoil of tears, 

And wherever the feet wander faint¬ 
ing or far 

Every day is a sun, every night is a 
star! 


V. 

To the world! O, the wond! Ah, the 
fruits of its soil 

From the gardens of love drive the 
terrors of toil, 

And the sins that embitter us leave 
us and then 

We shall stand in His presence per¬ 
fected of men ! 




79 





The Glory Train 

Yondah stan’s 'de gospel station 
Whar de railroad runs away 
Foh de house ob many mansions 
Ober at de judgment day 1 
Bettah gib a move on, sinnah ! 

Doan’t yuh let yoh folks detain I 
Hurry up an’ git yuh ticket 
Foh de glory train T 

It’s on time an’ sho’lly cornin’ 

Wid onmeasu’hed powah, 

Wid the ingine flames a-spoutin y 
Moah dan fohty miles an houah ! 
Doan’t yuh stan’ dar jes’ a-foolin’ f 
Wid de jedgment on yoh brain ! 
Hurry up an git yoh ticket 
Foh de glory train I 

Preachah say yuh have ter hurry, 
’Case de kyars go whizzin’ by,— 

Ef yuh want ter check yoh baggage 
Foh de mansions high; 

Bid farewell ter ebery pleasuah, 

An’ de bad world’s burma’ pain; 
Hurry up an’ git yoh ticket 
Foh de glory train ! 

* * 

* 

There are many dainties that hold 
attractions for the epicure, but in the 
strenuous times of campaign strug¬ 
gles they all give way to “pie. ,; 


80 


The Bright Day. 

The bright day, the bright day, 

The shadows smiling through,— 
The bright day, the bright day 
Where Love looks up at you 1 
The bright day, the bright day ! 

The sorrows fade from view; 

The white day, the light day, 

The child heart always knew! 

The bright day, the bright day! 

The sun is golden there; 

The sad clouds are glad clouds 
And gone is every care. 

The sky life, the high life, 

Is waiting at the shore; 

The bright day, the bright day, 
Shining evermore! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly, 

The wonder of it all is how a fool 
can ever have any money to be part¬ 
ed from. 

When the efficient man appears, 
there is no juggling with occasion or 
ceremonious tradition. Tne instinct 
of helpless selfishness clothes him on 
the spot with robe and crown. 

Shoot arrowsat the sun, if you will; 
but before you proceed to unload 
your quiver in that direction, set 


81 


aside a sufficient reserve fund to dis¬ 
charge squarely at beef-steak and 
potatoes. 

* * 

* 

The King'bolt Philosopher, 

“I heered tell,” said Uncle Ezra 
Mudge, “thet one of them-air brass- 
collared fellers down at St. Looey 
thinks he hez a baboon thet is the 
connectin’ link betwixt men en 
monkeys. I seed the same thing 
over to Lumkinsville the last time I 
wuz thar. I guess thet feller must 
hev gone down thar en caught it en 
put it in a cage. It wuz in some re¬ 
spects much like a human. It walk, 
ed on two legs en wore clothes, shoes, 
a shirt en a hat like a man. It wuz 
erbout the size ov a fourteen-yar ole 
boy, en it kep’ on smokin’ cigerretts 
all the time. A feller tole me thar it 
’ud smoke six boxes ov ’em a day. I 
don’t see whut’s the use ov goin’ clar 
to St. Looey to see a thing like thet, 
when they keep plenty ov ’em as near 
as Lumpkinsville! Stan’nin’ right 
out on the main streets, too, en not 
chargin’ a cent to look at it all ye 
want to!” 

* * 

* 

If you have the “good resolution 
habit” swear off on that and do busi¬ 
ness. 


82 


Little Sermons, 

The man who has a good appetite 
needn’t worry the Lord with any 
troubles. 

If faith without works is dead, that 
-of the average loafer must be worse 
than an Egyptian mummy. 

The brother with the best lungs 
may pray the loudest, but that gives 
him no insurance of a cool place over 
yonder. 

* * 

45 - 

Pretty Good World. 

Pretty good world, 

If you know how to useit, 

Pretty good life 

If you never abuse it; 

Jog along, brother, 

Through pleasure and sorrow; 

All will be lovely 

With sunshine tomorrow! 

* * 

* 

There are many patent ways to 
keep young these days, but we have 
observed that they all fail after a 
woman passes forty-five. 

Don’t estimate your engine power 
too high. Many a man with a $5,000 
education is too small for a 30-cent 
job. 


83 


We Sat and Talked of Other Days. 

I. 

We sat and talked of other days,— 
two old and wrinkled men,— 
Beyond the dreams of boyish hours 
and all we fancied then,— 

And as we talked our hearts grew 
warm,and down the noiseless night 
We romped again with golden feet 
and hearts of pure delight. 

II. 

The dreams we dreamed when life 
wasyoungand all the world was oew 
Came back again from vanished ways 
with raptures smiling through, 
And all the high resolves of heart and 
all the deeds of hand 
Returned equipped with robe and 
crown and showed the Promised 
Land! 

III. 

We sat and talked of other days,— 
the days that went away,— 

Of child-hood’s dreamy hours of joy 
and child-hood’s heart of play ; 

And as we talked of other days, for¬ 
getting weal or woe, 

The boys and girls came back again 
across the Long Ago. 

IV. 

We knew this life of men and things 
with all its griefs and glees 

84 


Is not a dream of pleasures sweet or 
lilt of lullabies; 

And yet despite the shadows deep 
that o’er the sunshine fall, 

’Tis always worth the living and its 
songs are all in all. 

V. 

We sat and talked of other days! 0, 

days that died unfelt, 

Where innocence was crowned with 

love and all the vitrues dwelt; 

And in our hearts we sadly knew, 

whate’er the sages say, 

That Heaven romps with us no more 

since those days went away I 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

Finding fault is not hard work,but 
it is a great waste of valuable time. 

“Food for thought” is a popular 
and necessary brand, but the hungry 
man entirely overlooks it on the bill 
of fare. 

If you would have a soft berth in 
this world, you must first run the 
full-feathered goose down aud then 
do the plucking by your own main 
strength. 


85 


The World All Right, 

Don’t sing of a bright world 
That waits “over there,” 

But warble of this world 
And banish your care; 

Beyond the dark valley 
Sweet heaven may be, 

But the world is all right 
And it’s all here for me! 

It has a few shadows 
And something of tears, 

But they only make brighter 
The beautiful years; 

And this world is so jolly 
Whatever may grieve 
That I’m not in a hurry 
To puli up and leave! 

* 

* * 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

‘ I’ve noticed,” said Uncle Ezra 
Mudge, “thetmany en many a time 
it ain’t knowin’ how to git up thet 
makes a success of a man so much ez 
knowin’ how to git down. Sooner er 
later a tumble comes rollin’ along fer 
the best of fellers, en before he knows 
what’s a-comin’ he’s clear down at 
the bottom of the pile. The feller 
thet kin git up a-laffin’ under sich 
peculierr sarcumstances is the feller 


86 






thet winy out en is on top when 
Gabriel goes to tootin’ of his horn; 
but the feller thet mopes aroun' en 
talks erbout whut he hez bin instid 
of tellin’ whut he’s a-goin’ ter be is 
kiveredover in the scrap-heap, world 
withcut end, ferever en ever, Amen!” 
And the old man knocked the ashes 
from his Missouri meerschaum and 
ambled into the kitchen where the 
long green hung. 

* 

* * 

God Give Us Ghange! 

God give us change! The days are 
long 

With labors hard that make us 
weary, 

And o’er the gladness of each song 
There floats a cadence somewhat 
dreary; 

We’d like to loaf awhile, for—say— 
Some five or ter sweet years, or 
twenty, 

And chase the dull cares all away; 
God give us change and give us 
plenty! 

God give us change! The dull days 
flow 

With quietude that palls a little; 
Just anything to make it go 

And heat the steam up in the ket¬ 
tle; 


87 


No matter how the fortunes kind 
In dull monotony prove pleasant, 
We’d rather mix things up and find 
A stirring scramble of the present 1 
We do not ask for all the gifts 
To fall upon us in a tumble; 

A very few where life’s boat drifts 
Will keep us happy through the 
jumble; 

We only ask the mirth of men,— 
Where’er we be we’ll always love it, 
And if the big bills vanish, then 
God give us changeand plenty of it! 

* * 

* 

'The Sooners". 

The “Sooners” may have their 
faults, but as a general propositions 
they are to be preferred to the “la- 
ters. ’’Every good thing that has 
blestmankind sinceAdamhad hiscel- 
ebrated adventure with green goodsin 
the Garden of Eden, has been dis¬ 
covered, invented, dug out or dug 
up, by a “sooner.” He has always 
bean a dare-devil whose courage was 
so prominent as to attract the envy 
and malice of every “later” that 
whittled dry-goods boxes into splint¬ 
ers and used his time to cuss “the 
government,” God bless the whole 
“sooner” tribe, say I, from Adam 
down to General KuroKi 1 
88 




The home lights! The home lights! 

How they blaze and burn 
Through the darkness of the shadows 
Everywhere we turn! 

What if stormy weather gather 
On the hills we roam, 

We shall refuge find forever 
In the lights of home! 

* * 

* 

Stand Pat. 

In the mighty game of life, 

Stand pat I 

Don’t be moved hy storm or strife, 
Stand pat! 

Keep within youf heart a song, 

Aod the days will not be long, 

Till you conquer every wrong,— 
Stand pat, stand pat! 

Don’t be bluffed by this or that,— 
Stand pat! 

Half the howls are chitter-chat,— 
Stand pat! 

When you hold the ruling hand 
You are always in command, 

And you’ll surely beat the band.— 
Stand pat, stand pat! 

There’s no need to draw or fill. 
Stand pat! 

Play your cards to make a kill, 
Stand pat! 




89 


If there’s one that wants to rai9e r 
Back your last chip while he plays 
Till the chump no longer stays,— 
Stand pat, stand pat 1 
There’s a stack of reds and blues,. 
Stand pat F 

For the chap that knows their use. 
Stand pat F 

When the game is o’er and won 
Are the stages that urged us on, 
God will cash our chips at dawn,— 

Stand pat, stand pat! 

* * 

* 

The Valleys of Rest, 

I. 

What matters, it, Dear, though the 
burdens be sore? 

In the Valleys of Rest we shall weary 
no more, 

And the music of mirth with its solace 
shall sing 

All the songs of delight the beati¬ 
tudes bring! 

II. 

Nevermore shall the days with the 
sorrows be sad 

Where the love-roses bloom and the 
joy-mornings glad— 

Where the violets dream through the 
east and the west 


90 


Of the beautiful lands in the Valleys 
of Rest! 

III. 

There the heart from its grief in a 
moment shall cease, 

And the soul hush its cries in the 
cadence of peace, 

And the life with the laughter of 
rhapsody blest 

Shall rejoice through the years in the 
Valleys of Rest. 

IV. 

O, the dear dreams that fled down 
the deepsof the past 

That await with their welcomes our 
coming at last; 

And the lips of our love that our lips 
never pressed 

Smiling there for their own in the 
Valleys of Rest! 

V. 

O, the raptures that stay for our 
glorified feet 

When the joys of the past and the 
future shall meet,— 

When the hopes of the years shall 
return from their quest 

For the love-crowns of life in the 
Valleys of Rest I 

91 


vr. 

Ah, the days, Dear, the days with 
their griefs and their glees 
Sail away on s.vi ft ships o’er eternity’s 
seas; 

Bat at last we shall anchor with Love 
for our guest 

On the Paradise shores by the Val¬ 
leys of Rest! 

* * 

* 

The Ignorance of the Court. 

They tell a good story over at Guth¬ 
rie at Judge Burford’s expense. R3- 
eently, an old Tennessee darkey T 
charged with stealing chickens, was 
brought into cc urt for trial. The 
facts were all against him. He had 
no attorney, and when the Judge 
asked him ir he wanted an attorney 
appointed to defend him, he declared 
that he did not. 

“But you are entitled to a lawyer ,” 
the court explained, “and you might 
as well have the benefit of his servi¬ 
ces ! ” 

“Yoh Honah would jes’ a ’pint me 
some ob dese hyah po’ah white trash 
lawyehs,” the old darkey replied,‘an’ 
he wouldn’t do me no good. Ef it’s 
jes’de same to you, jedge,I’d ruthah 
depen’on de ignorance ob de couht1” 


92 




> 


The Quest for Joy. 

I. 

A phantom I follow forever through 
all of the shadow and shine, 

Whose face is fair as the blossom, 
whose form is as warm as the wine ; 

Whose lips areas sweet as the dew- 
falls that vtlvet the mornings of 
June, 

And eyes as t he deep stars of Autumn 
that glow in the glories of noon ! 

II. 

A phantom I follow forever! Yet 
never on ocean or land 

Have I heard the sweet voice of her 
music or leaped at the thrill of 
her hand, 

And never, ah, never a greeting she 
gives that is tender and kind, 

As I follow through mazes of beauty 
where flowers ip her foot-steps I 
find ! 

III. 

A phantom I follow forever! What 
matter though careless of me, 

She drifts to the sands of the desert 
and sails on the wave-tossing sea ? 

With foot never parched by the bar¬ 
rens, with boat never broken by 
storm, 

I follow, I follow her passing and 
clutch at the wraith of her form ! 

93 


IV. 


And still I wi.ll follow the pnantom l 
Whatever the questing may seem 
I'll conquer the spoil of her glory 
and climb to the crown of her 
dream ; 

And over the deeps of my yearning 
and over the hills of my hope, 
Shp leads and I follow forever, wher¬ 
ever her phantasies grope! 

V. 

And there at the lastl shall find her— 
the angel that led me afar,— 

And we shall rejoice in the raptures 
where all the beatitudes are; 

And whether the journey be little, or 
whether the journey be long, 

I press the red lips of her beauty and 
leap at the lilt of her song! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

When Misfortune concludes to pay 
you a visit, she pushes the door open 
and walks in without knocking. 

Woman’s inhumanity to man,— 
the ODe she has and the other she 
wants,—maketh the divorce lawyer 
fat with ali-money. 

Temptation is the dangerous bana¬ 
na-peel on the side-walk of upright 


94 


conduct; and even the bare foot some¬ 
times takes a fall-down. 

* *■ 

* 

Too Busy, 

Trouble will double 
If trouble gets room, 

But will pine if you leave her 
And die in her gloom ; 

For trouble is lonesome 
And moans from the start 
If you face her with firmness 
And lock up your heart 

Sorrow will borrow 
Wherever she can, 

But will leave when you tell her 
You’re never her man ; 

Don’t flirt with the vixen, 

Don’t welcome her face, 

But exhort her to leave you 
For some warmer place. 

Make Trouble and Sorrow,— 

The couple that moans— 

Keep out of your pathway 
And limp on the stones * 

Just let them go weeping 
Through all of the years; 

For a man is too busy 
To join in their tears. 

* * 

* 


9 5 


/ 


"When the Crow’s Feet Come." 

When we reach the Land of Forty, 

A nd the hot b'ood c ols a jot. 
There’s a mighty sight of changes 
In our vision, like as not; 

And we sober down a little 
As we figure up life’s sum 
When we waken in the morning 
And the crow’s feet come. 

When they scratch their little wrink¬ 
les 

Round the corner of the eyes 
We • egin to chase the creatures 
In a horrified surprise; 

But they cling with cool persistence 
And our hearts are stricken dumb 
For we know they’ll never leave us 
W hen the cruw’s feet come. 

We may tonic and cosmetic, 

V e may take our beauty sleep; 

We may rub and punch and powder 
But the claws go deep and deep; 
And before we understand it 
All our beauty’s on the bum 
For the years are turning yellow 
When the crow’s feet come! 

But it’s all the way of Nature! 

There’s no use to sob or sigh, 
’Cause the chin takes on a wobble 
And the wrinkles wrap the eye; 

If wp heap our hearts with gladness 
Life with music still shall hum, 
Though we reach the Land of Forty 
And the crow’s feet come! 


96 




A Welcome for Winter. 

I. 

A welcome for Winter! Though sum¬ 
mer shall fade, 

There is joy on the prairies her boun¬ 
ties have made, 

And the Land of the Sunshine all 
happiness knows 

Through the days of the shadows 
and nights of the snows! 

II. 

A welcome for Winter ! What mat¬ 
ters the cold 

Which the harvest has warmed with 
the russet and gold? 

All the valleys of plenty shall laugh 
through the white 

Of the snow-laden day andthe storm- 
ridden night. 

III. 

A welcome for Winter! Though June, 
rosy red, 

Has plucked all her blossoms and 
frightened far fled, 

There are hives with their honeys and 
granaries sweet, 

And the fiddles of music with spring 
for the feet! 


97 


I 


IV. 

A welcome for Winter! If far from 
the flays 

All the lilies have gone from the 
violet ways, 

There is joy that will dance o’er the 
meadows and sing, 

Where the carols of plenty ttfeir 
blessedness bring. 

V. 

Then, ho y for the Winter! There's 
love on the hills, 

There is laughter and peace by the 
ice-covered rills, 

And the hearts shall rejoice in the 
songs that arise 

In the raptures that roll under storm¬ 
laden skies I 

V 

Caught on the Fly, 

Some people act on an idea that 
work is so sacred they fear to touch 
it least they profane its divine nature. 

Opportunity is a beautiful bird, but 
so shy that it feeds on the wing and 
never alights long enough for a com¬ 
mon man to pluck its plumage. 

Every man has within him the es¬ 
sentials of exalted greatness; but 
most ofus are so enmeshed in small 


\ 


98 




V 


* 


follies that the greatness cannot 
break through. 

* 

* * 

The Kingbolt Philosopher, 

“I’ve lived off en on in this land 
of Trouble fer mor’n seventy years,” 
said Uncle Ezra Mudge, as he adjust¬ 
ed a shingle-neil in place of a missing 
button for a suspender hold. “En I 
never yit got a chance ter shake 
han’s with him. I hev hearu tell 
thet he is a mighty bigfeller, but my 
observation is thet when you onct 
git up close to whayre he’s a-stayin’, 
he shrivels up so under a brave look 
frum honest eyes thet you hev ter 
git a maggifyin’ glass ter diskiver the 
kind ov an animile he actu’lly is!” 

* * 

* 

When Willie Goes to School, 

When Willie goes to school, it seems 
The house has lost its light, 

And silence like a shadow dreams 
Of sunshine out of sight; 

The place assumes a somber air, 

And lonely musings rule 
The moments slowly passing there 
When Willie goes to school. 

We hustle him from bed, and tell 
To quickly wash and comb, 

99 


l. of a 


His breakfast eat, and gather well 
The books he carried home; 

We brush his coat and fix his tie, 
And with him fuss and fool, 

And kiss him as he hurries by 
When Willie goes to school. 

Aod all day long we anxious wait 
To hear his foot-steps fast, 

Make music sweet there at the gate 
When be comes home at last! 

The lonely heart with rapture filis 
And life’s hot warrings cool, 
Andall the home with laughter thrills 
When Willie comes from school 1 

Ah, World, the school that young 
hearts seek ! 

We know full well that you 
Will keep him long at tasks that 
speak 

Of books and ferule, too! 

God grant that in the far-off years 
He finds no dunce’s stool, 

Whereon to weep with foolish tears 
When Willie goes to school! 

*** 

’Tis Morning on the Hilhtops. 

I. 

What though the valleys wander in 
v shadows manifold? 


100 



’Tis morning on the hill-tops and all 
the skies are gold, 

And on the purple summits the rap¬ 
tures of the blest 

Are crooning their evangels and sing¬ 
ing songs of rest! 

II, 

’Tis morning on the hill-tops? The 
darkness at the feet 
'Shall blossom at the dawning with 
all the roses sweet. 

And every grief we gather and every 
tear we know 

Shall vanish into gladness as up the 
paths we go. 

III. 

’Tis morning on the hill-tops ! The 
glories of His love 

With life and light supernal are 
waiting there above, 

And up the slopes of shadow our 
weary feet shall climb 

To kiss tho smiles of rapture beyond 
the tears of time. 

IV. 

’Tis morning on the hill-tops! What 
matters sob or sin ? 

The Master waits our coming and 
welcomes us within ; 


101 


AdcI there beyond the shadows where 
gladness reigrs alway 

We’ll meet the hosts of morning, and 
dwell with tiiem for aye. 

V. 

O, Morning on the Hill-tops! The 
dim eyes look to you, 

Beyond the darkened valleys and all 
the griefs they knew, 

And to the sunshine waiting in realms 
of rhapsody, 

The paths lead on and upward to 
where you wait fcr me ! 

* * 

The Defeated, 

Not he who loses but who fails to 
fight, 

In God’s long years reaps harves- 
ings of blame; 

Not he the blindbut who destroys the 
sight 

Receives the curses of the ages’ 
blame ! 

* * 

* 

See the Side-Show. 

When you visit at the circus 
And behold the steeds bedight, 
And the hoops and riogs and races 
And the clowns that make delight,- 
You will miss the happy touches 
Thatcomplete your broadest grin 
If you see the main performance 
And don’t take the side-show in. 


102 



There’ll he high and lofty tumbles, 
There’ll be acrobatic feats, 
There’ll be leaps and bounds and 
twistings, 

That willliftyou from your seats; 
But with all the glare an 1 glitter, 
You’ll but know the fun begin, 
If you see the main performance 
And don't take the side-show in. 

There’ll be elephants and lions. 

There’ll be bears and tigers, too; 
There’ll be clowns in robes and 
spangles 

All to please the boy in you; 

But the raptures of your *dness 
Nothing can completely win, 

If you see the main performance 
don’t * a ke the side-show in. 

Life is something of a circus : 

It has half a hundred rings 
Where its jumbled aggregation 
Earth’s attractions to you brings; 
But they leave the heart still heavy 
As it stirs with stress and din, 

If you see the main performance 
And don’t take the side-show in ! 

* * 

* 

Voting Around, 

'‘Well, Sam, how’s cotton-picking 
getting along?” asked a white man 
of his colored neighbor 

“Hain’t doin’ any cotton-pickin’ 
yit,” replied Sam. ’Lection time’s 
a-comin’ an’ I’m jes’ a-votin’erroun’ 
tell the candahdates quit runnin’!” 






103 


Little Sermons. 

Religion is too often what the 
other fellow out to practice. 

Good never bears any fruit for you, 
except when cultivated in your own 
heart. 

The devil always has a patent 
medicine recommended to cure 
trouble and increase pleasure. 

Examine the looks of your con¬ 
science. It may be only prejudice 
that has placed its hand-baggage in 
the wrong room. 

We are always glad to gather the 
harvest, which is abundant for the 
whole world, but are willing to leave 
the weed-pulling to the other fellow, 

* * 

* 

Love Brings the Song, 

What if there’s trouble 

And wbat if there’s wrong? 

God sends the sunshine 
And Love brings the song! 

What if you stumble 
When racing it strong? 

Love will uplift you, 

For Love brings the song! 

Bury your troubles, 

And life will be long : 

God sends the sunshine 
And Love brings the song! 


A 


104 



Mistah Cottons 

Mistah Cotton come toh me 
In de young spring-time, 

En he say, say he toh me, 
“Sambo, bet yuh dime, 

Dat you’ll never pick dat patch ! 

Dat I’ll fool yuh crap, 

Fer de weeds’ll make a catch 
En de bolls’ll drapl” 

Den I chase him up en down, 

En I take his bet; 

Chop dat cotton clar toh town ; 

IIow dis niggah sweat! 

En I plow him sbo’ly fine,— 
Wo’k him day en night, 

En de fust t’ing, how he shine 
Wid de rows ob white! 

Mistah Cotton, doan’t yuh t’ink 
Yuh kin fool me now; 

I’ll dis pick yuh quick es wink,- 
Lemme show vuh how! 

- Pile yuh in de wagon-bed, 

Sell yuh, ting a ling ! 

How de silvah-dallahs spread 
Dat sweet song dey sing! 

* * 

* 

Don’t use a telescope to discover 
your neighbor’s faults. Even the 
sun has a few spots, but it would be 
a cold day for you without the glory 
of his shine. 


105 


Hear the Song. 


*1 

There are dark and gloomy corners 
full of soirow, like as not, 

But the world is glad with music 
and it carols everywhere; 

And if now and thena shadow dwells 
upon alittle SDob, 

These is sunshine on the meadows 
and the wide ways laugh at care. 

O, mychildren ! Don’byou worry. 
As you go along; 

Let your life be glad and cheerful 
And you’ll hear the Song! 

II. 

As we wander down thevalleys where 
the griefs of life assail, 

We will find a few obstructions 
that are heaping in the road; 
But with feet that never weary and 
wiih hearts that never quail, 

We shall mount the glory-summits 
to the Summer-lands’ abode. 

0, my children ! Don’t you weary 
As you go along ; 

Climb the path ways to the hill¬ 
tops, 

And you’ll hear the Song! 


106 



in. 

You will bend, beneath the burdens 
as you meet the toils of life, 

And your arms will ache a little 
as you labor down the way; 
But the rest of God’s perfection waits 
beyond the bitter strife • 

And He crowns the souls that 
struggle with His Everlasting 
Day 1 

O, my children ! Don’t you mur¬ 
mur, 

As you go along ; 

Look above to God’s Anointed, 
And you’ll hear the Song! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly, 

When Love leaves life, Laughter 
packs up her things and gets ready 
to move. 

When Hope dies in the heart, all 
its poor relations refuse to remain 
for the funeral services. 

The people who are all the time 
trying to manage other people should 
remember that though Providence 
created Man in His own image, it has 
been unable to manage him ever 
since. 


107 


"When Canderdates Git After Pa." 

When canderdates git after Pa, 

Set up seegars. an’ tell him flat 
How big a man he is, and Ma 

How good ahe cooks, an’ all of 
that, 

I slip aroun’ an’ let ’em know 
I’m something on the homestead, 
too, 

Fer onct upon a time or so 

They’ll hand a nickel out fer you ! 

When they come here, it’s mighty 
fine ! 

Pa stops the team, an’ work we 
quit 

An’ them there fellere staystodine 
An’ talk the day-lights outen it! 
They tell us how the gover’ment 
Is goin’ on, an’ quote the law 
An’ tell their choice fer president, 
When canderdates git after Pa! 
An’ then they’ll brag about his 
farm ; 

How fine his hogs an’ hosses air; 
How slick his cattle, till my arm 
Gits tired at all the jollies there ! 
An’ then they tell Ma she’s a peach, 
A honey-lulu without flaw, 

A angel fur beyond their reach, 
When canderdates git after Pa. 


108 




When after dinner they hitch np 
He sends me out to feed the 
shoats, 

An’ then they drink with nary cup 
An’ talk about the township 
votes; 

An’ after they git gone, Pa he 
Has got a breath that’s orful raw; 

But I tell you it’s nuts to me 
When canderdates git after Pa! 

* * 

* 

Don’t Worry. 

O, brother, don’t you worry,— 
Don’t you sob or sigh ; 

Just soak yourself with sunshine 
And let the world go by I 

What matters all, my brother. 

The world may do or say? 

For you and I outlive the sky 
And it lives but a day ! 

* * 

* 

Keep at work, my brother; 

Keep at work I say t 

There’s not a cosy corner 
For lazy ones that play; 

And as through life you labor 
And gladly jog along, 

Just soak yourself with sunshine 
And fill your heart with song! 


109 


Little Sermons. 

If Heaven is too far away for you 
to reach out and shake hands with it, 
there is something wrong with your 
conduct. 

If this life isn’t worth living well, 
how do you expect to take one with 
you into another world that will be 
worth any more? 

While you are praying for the un¬ 
regenerate sinners of this world, 
don’t forget, to put in a word now and 

then for your own personal benefit. 

* 

* * 

"The Lord is Good to Me/' 

“The Lord is good to me!” he said, 
As on his bended knees he knelt 
Above his meager crust of bread 
And voiced the gratitude he felt; 
And from his supplications, he 

Arose with strength renewed to face 
The pinchings of his poverty, 

The sorrows of his humble place. 
“The Lord is good to me ! ” she prayed 
Above her sU eping babe at rest, 
While smiles of exaltation played 
Across her features, care oppressed ; 
And from the crib of anguish where 
The fever-wasted baby slept 
She happy slipped away from care 
And all the anxious tears she wept. 
110 


“The Lord is good to rad” he cried 
’Mid life’9 wild wreck as close he 
grasped 

The scattered fragments to his side 
Of millions lost that, once heclasped: 
And with a peace and thankfulness 
He never knew when Fortune 
smiled, 

He put behind him all distress 

And laughed as lightly as a child. 

“The Lord is good to me!’’ How 
slight 

The gifts of God we grateful bless, 
While countless treasures of delight 
Escape the praise of thankfulness! 
Through days of sunshine and ofrain, 
Through nights of griefs and rhap¬ 
sody, 

How I forget with high disdain 

How much the Lord is good to me ! 
* * 

^ * 

Caught on the Fly, 

In these days of beef trust domin¬ 
ation, every man is known by the 
breakfast ft od he easts. 

The charity that covers a multi¬ 
tude of sins generally runs mighty 
short of blankets in the winter time. 

Fishing poles are now out of date, 
but the candidatesare bidding mighty 
lively for the pole that is long enough 
to reach the persimmon. 


Ill 


A Doubtful Voter. 

“Well, Jimmy, how’s your Pa get¬ 
ting along with his corn-shuckingaud 
cotton picking?” inquired Bill Smith 
of his neighbor’s son, which neighbor 
was noted for his industry and thrifty 
habits. 

“Pa p's git tin’ erlong tine with ’em,” 
answered the boy. “Ye see there’s 
five county tickets in the field a-run- 
nin’ this year, an’ pap’s a doubtful 
voter; an’ whenever a candidate 
comes, pap jes’ goes erlong shuckin’ 
corn or pickin’ cotton, an’ the candi¬ 
date helps him fer the sake of corn- 
p’ny. We’ve got all our corn shuck¬ 
ed, en ef we nev no bad weather, 
there won’t be cotton enough left to 
pick by ’lectionj day to lint yer 
whiskers with !” 

* 

* * 

Another Vintage. 

“It is mere of the Spirit of ’76that 
we need!” shouted the campaign 
orator. 

“1 haven’t any of the spirits of ’76,” 
broke in abystauier in the audience. 
“But I’ve a quart of ‘white mule’ 
here in my pocket as fine as was ever 
brewed, if that will relieve your wants 
any!” ' 


112 



Providence Takes Care of his Own. 

‘De Lawd am pow’ful good to de 
culled fokes,” said a negro philoso¬ 
pherspeaking from his dusky medi¬ 
tations ‘ No soonah am de wohtah- 
millions gone de way ob all de yarth 
dan de pihsimmons git ripe ernuff 
tot) make de po**um fat, bress de 
Lawd!" *** 

Forgotten, 

He conquered all the foes that ban¬ 
nered wrong; 

He strove with might and did 
heroic deeds; 

Yet nameiess he; for to his lofty 
meeds 

None wrought the immortality of 
so ng. 

* * 

* 

Give Us More. 

No matter how the world may go, 
How nigh it heaps our store, 

For all the joys that banish woe 
We always wish for more! 

And from the cares that fume and 
fret, 

We cry as e’er before: 

“We thank thee, Lird, for what we 
get, 

But give us more,—still more!’’ 


113 


In Yearning Mood, 

I. 

Tarn back, O Time, to where the 
young years rove 

And smile with rosy lips and sing 
through joyous d«vs; 

The dull feetgrow so heavy, and so 
far the ways 

They wander from my love ! 

II, 

It was not this world where the danc¬ 
ing feet 

Kept pace with joy and leaped 
through lanes of perfect hours; 

It was that far-olf world that sang 
with birds and flowers, 

And all the raptures sweet. 

Ill 

It was not this world where our 
glad lips cluDg, 

And close between the long-drawn 
kisses fondly told 

Of dreams revealed not and of 
ecstasies that rolled 

From glad hearts always young! 

IV. 

The dream-face beckons yonder,— 
beckons o’er 

The long years fled afg.r and lapse 
of longing days, 


114 


Who leaned against my bosom in 
the love-wreathed ways. 

Then fled, and came no more! 

V. 

Turn turn, O, Time, and lead with 
thy hard hands 

Me like a child back where two 
voung hearts fondly met: 

A music laughs there always, and 
beyond the dim eyes wet 
Love rules her perfect lands! 

V 

On the Road to Riches. 

“What are you foolin’ with now, 
John?” Asked the inquisitive neigh¬ 
bor of John who was always invent¬ 
ing something that he thought 
would bring him fame and fortune. 

“I’mon toe right track at last,” 
replied John gleefully. ” I’m in¬ 
vent n’ a pole that will knock the 
persimmons, an’if I can only make 
it work, I’ll be a millionaire in 
fourteen minutes, selling out to the 
candidates that are running for office 
thisyear!” %* 

A littie life in which to do 

The little deeds that rise before; 

A little love, a song or two, 

And then the little life is o’er! 


115 



"When Troubles ^ome. My 
Honey/* 

When troubles come, my honey, 

And sorrows dark the sky, 

We’ll seek the cave of faithful love 
And watch thecioudsfgo by; 

A refuge safe, my honey, 

From all the storm and strife, 
Where jov shall keep the strong heart 
young 

Through all the cares of life. 

Then come with me, my honey; 

What though the wild winds blow ? 
With hand and heart true love shall 
keep 

Us safe through .weal and woe ! 

The storm-clouds dark, my honey, 
May fret the deep blue sky, 

But love shall keep us smiling still 
Of bright days by and by ! 

* * 

* 

Be Patient, 

Don’t you lose your stock of patience 
When the world seems going wrong: 
It was here before you found it 
With its happiness and song ; 

And it’s altogether likely 
That it’s pretty sure to stay 
With its music and its blossoms 
After you have gone away. 


116 




And no matter how you labor 

Smoothing down the rocky way, 

On the pathswhere men shall wander 

It. is likely stones will stay. 

Here and there the little pebbles 

You may banish one by one, 

But. the mountains rise forever 

And your work is never done. 

Dor’t despair ! What use to worry 

When the load you have to leave? 

Other hands and hearts will follow 

And the heavy task receiv*; 

Do your own part to the limit! 

Give it all the strength you can, 

And as sure as Hod is ruling 

He will crown you all a Man ! 

Step by step the world advances 

Up the long and slippery slope; 

Step by step it slow upwanders 

Through the valleys of its hope; 

Leave the tasks that rise beyond you ! 

Do the little deeds you can, 

And the millions coming after 

Shall complete what you began ! 

* * 

* 

The Good Book tells us that the 
Master went about doing good while 
he stayed in the world, and so we are 
not surprised when it tells about his 
welcome to the glory-land. 


117 


To the Light, 

I. 

To the Light! To the Light! Let us 
climb to the Star 

That is swinging above where the 
benisons are, 

Till we rest in the meadows where 
blossom above 

All the daisies of Peace and the roses 
of Love 1 

II. 

From the dim and the dusk of the 
blood-sprinkled years, 

How the nations have toiled from 
the valleys of tears,— 

How the races have groped through 
the shadows of Wrong 

To the gladness of Joy and the music 
of Song! 

III. 

And the Man with the Race, how he 
leaps from the woe 

Of the battle fields dead and the sor¬ 
rows they know,— 

How he gathers his tents from the 
dark of the night 

Till he finds a sweet home in the 
gardensof light! 

IV. 

Oh, the thousands that fell by the 
mountains and stream 


118 


Where the men of the past spilt their 
blood for a dream ! 

How the feet, ever striving, slow 
stepped from the past 
Till they found the sweet music of 
rapture at last.!* 

V. 

To the Light,! To the-Light! Yonder 
still shines tho Star 
That i>» waiting for us where the ben* 
isons are, 

And there in the meadows that blos¬ 
som above 

We shall gather in peace all the roses 
of Love! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

Some people do all they csn to 
make others uncomfortable, and call 
it their religion. 

The love which is so superfiae that 
it can’t find a place for its home in 
this world is entirely too good for a 
hearty welcome in the next one. 

The reason why the preachers 
don’t have larger congregations must 
be on account of their not wanting 
to call the sinners but the righteous 
to repentance, and there is always 
plenty of room. 


119 


In the Light, 

Keep in the sunshine, brother! 

Walk in the golden light; 

The shadows are over yonder, 

And there is the night, the Night! 
Keep in the suVishine, brother! 

It gleams on the grayest slope, 

It smiles with the lips of pleasure, 
And laughs with the lips of hope. 
Keep in the sunshine, brother ! 

It gladdens the world with light; 
The shadows are over yonder, 

And there is the night, the Night! 

*** 

Little Sermons. 

However we may measure it, the 
heart of the world is always greatly 
bigger than its head. 

Love will stir the heart into laugh¬ 
ter when all the gold of Ophir only 
brings a snow-storm to life’s roses. 
That work is only worthy which 
adds something to the store of things 
that contribute multiplied joys to 
the lives of men t 

God Icves a mute but kindly tongue 
six days in the week more than a 
yawping mouth of prayer on the 
seventh day. 


120 


Wanted to Hide 


“What art thou, miserable creat¬ 
ure !” shouted Pluto in a great rage 
as he beheld a shrinking, cowering 
form, hiding away in the deepest 
shadows 

“Pardon me, O, god of the realm 
of darkness,” implored the miserable 
shade. “I am an ante—election 
prophecy,and am only trying to hide 
myself away and be forgotten for¬ 
ever more!” 

“Poor thing, go and sin no more!” 
replied the king of shadows with a 
great pity in his voice. “Thy punish¬ 
ment is, indeed, deserved !” And he 
strode awav to stir up the animals in 

another quarter of his dominions. 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

The thankfulness of some people 
stops in saying grace at the table 
before meals. 

It isn’t always the front seats that 
are occupied by His humblest chil¬ 
dren, when the collection plate gets 
busy. 

The religion that is so brief as to 
last only a few hours on Sunday can 
be at home in a place too warm to 
cut ice in the great hereafter. 

121 


The Sunshine Song, 
i- 

It’s no matter what your sorrows, 
they will vanish sure and soon 

If you’ll only use your whistle on the 
sunshine’s golden tune; 

And no matter what the weather nor 
how the troubles throng, 

If you practice on the music of the 
sunshine’s happy song. 

II- 

What’s the use to pout and pester 
when the joy-bells cease to chime? 

Sweet the daisies fill the meadow and 
they blossom all the time! 

Keep your heart heaped up with glad¬ 
ness and a faith that’s full and 
strong. 

And through all the ways of winter 
sing the blessed sunshine song! 

III. 

If the mountain path is steeper than 
your easy fancies thought, 

Keep on climbing for the summits 
and the glories that you sought; 

And if winter comes and pelts you 
with the snows that crowd along, 

Lift your heart and feet together to 
the^sunshine’s gdlden song. 


122 




IV. 

Over yonder bloom the lilies and the 
roses and the life ; 

What shall matter all the brambles 
and the underbrush of strife? 
Don’t you hear the angel carols rising 
o’er the cries of wrong? 

Ope vour heart and fill to bursting 
with the sunshine’s blessed song! 

V. 

O, my brother, don’t you worry ! Up 
and down this world we go 
Where the summer brings the blos¬ 
soms and the winter brings the 
snow; 

But it’s spring the wide world over as 
through life we push along 
If the heart is full of music and we 
sing the sunshine song! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

In a glad smile from a clean 
heart there was never room for evil 
to find a place to plant a suggestion 
of wrong doing. 

It may be wrong for somfe folks to 
dance, but the devil would rather 
have some people talk about their 
neighbors a minute than to dance a 
whole week. They can do so much 
better job at it. 


123 


The Lights of Home, 

r. 

Heave ho, the anchor, laddie?! The 
ocean rolls before ; 

We’ll climb the waves undaunted 
and search the far off shore; 

We’ll breast the angry breakers 
that on t he Reaches comb 

And sail, ah, sail, my hearties, for 
harbor-iights of home! 

II. 

His far the ships have drifted across 
the booming seas ; 

! Tis far our sails ha ^e darkened with 
toils and agonies; 

’Tis far that youth has wandered 
where life’s deepsorrowscome- 

But ho, my lads, we’re sailing for 
harbor-lights of home! 

III. 

Beyond the raging tempest, beyond 
the waves that roar, 

There waits the peaceful harbor and 
lights upon the shore; 

And when the voyage ceases, beyond 
the farthest foam 

We’ll anchor there forever ’neath 
habor lights of home! 

124 


IV 

Then weigh the anchor, laddies! 

The ship of iife shall sail 
Once more to youth’s glad mornings 
and joys that never fail; 

No matter how the weather, how 
far the course may roam, 
There always shines a welcome in 

harbor-lights of home! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly, 

Life is a great university, but it 
offers no post-graduate course for its 
pupils. 

Prejudice pflays the fool, when 
mere lack of sense would be the high¬ 
est wisdom. 

Too many people forsake praising 
&od for the pleasures they 1 have in 
order to pray for trouble they haven’t. 

However you may shape things 
up, there is more down fool prejudice 
about politics than anything else in 
this world except Mormonism and 
religion. 

One of the strangest things in the 
economies of this world is that the 
poor people who need money never 
have it and the rich people who don’t 
need it have more than they can use. 


; 


125 


"When the Campaign Liar Quits.” 


When the hurrah d w v ^ a r n over 

And the ballots all are cast, 
There’s perchance a tinge of sadness, 
Over glories that are past ; 
Bat we hnVH oar compensations; 

For no matter how it flits 
There’s a joy that beats unbounded 
When the campaign liar quits ! 

While the red fire and the rockets 
Fill the skies with ros.y glare, 
There’s a kind of inspiration 

In the shouts and music there ; 
But we ohss it. op with ladnes* 

And contentment on us sits, 
When the ballots all are counted 

And the campaign liar quits! 

He is trained in facts and figures, 
He’s a prodigy, in sooth; 

He can tell the smoothest story,- 

But he shies away from truth; 
So we g'nd'v lose the glory, 

(It was never worth two bits !) 
When the ballots all are counted 

And the campaign liar quits! 
So, no matter how it ended ! 

Whether your men lost or mine, 
We can shake hands all together 

O’er this recompense divine; 


126 






For we have a j >v that pleases,— 
That exalts oar blessed wits; 
Afid we know when all is over 

That the campaign liar quits! 
*** 

Thank the Lord for Work, 

Never pray for idle hours,— 

Never try to shrink; 

But with all your honest powers 
Thank the L <rd for wortt! 
Labor brings the pleasures high 

And the joys that thrive,— 
Where men laugh and where men cry, 
Dearest thing alive! 

Thank the Lord for strength to toil,- 
Thank him day by day,— 

Son of sky or son of soil 

On life’s vagrant way. 

With a soul that fearless grows 
And a good arm strong, 
Joyously the glad heart goes 
Up the worid of song! 

V 

There was a young lady from Beaver 
Who feared that her fellow would 
leave her; 

So she popped to her beau; 
But he answered her ‘•Neau'M 
And she called him a heartless de¬ 
ceiver ! 


127 



‘'Sing a Song of Sunshine. ’* 

Sing a song of sunshine ! 

Life is full of bliss; 

’Nother over yonder 
Just as good as this; 

When the trouble’s over, 

And the waiting long, 

We will sing the music 
Of the sunshine song! 

* * 

* 

Mighty Lonesome 

“Things am might loneseme er- 
roun’ de cabin now,’’ said old Black 
Mose. “’Lection is ober, en de 
eandahdates am all quit runnin’ so 
suddenly dat nary one ob em’s bin 
hyar fer two whole days, en de chil- 
luns am all outen side-meat!” 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

Merit generally wins, but some¬ 
times it is the doped horse in the 
swift race. 

The fellow who starts out to do 
thegreatest good to the greatest num¬ 
ber, generally concludes that the 
greatest number is No. 1. 

Amid the thunder and the crash of 
worlds, the chief question aftei all is 
how to get the most bread and butter 
with the least hard work. 

128 


Better Hide Out 

Mockin’ bird up yander, 

Singin’ in de trees, 

Clean fohgit it’s wintah, 

An’ de time toh fieeze! 

Bettah hide out, Mistah, 
’Fohyuh stahve to def! 
Wintah’s gwine toh git yuh 

Foh yuh ketch yoh bref! 

* * 

* 

Though the world of care and the 
griefs that cry 

May burden the years with a sob and 
sigh, 

Yet with one true heart and a hand 
that stays 

There’s a rose for the snows cf the 
wintry days! 

*** 

Caught on the Fly 

A little laughter, a little love and 
something of tears, and then the cur¬ 
tain falJs on the great drama of 
this life. 

No doubt, Adam had many bad 
habits, but he never walked about 
with hands in his pockets until after 
Eve started the first tailor shop. 

Some men’s consciences are so 
worthless that if put up and sold to 
the highest bidder, the auctioneer 
would have to call off the sale. 


129 


Thanksgiving Hymn, 

Dear Lord, for all the joyous days 
Thy loving hands to us have told 

We thank thee humbly, and we 
praise 

Thy wondrous mercies manifold ? 

We thank thee for thy gifts of love. 
Thy blessed benisons of good, 

For all thy mercies born above, 

And every fond beatitude. 

For all the blessings thou hast sent,-^ 
For paths that led us far from 
wrong,— 

For holy joys and tweet content, 

We praise thee with our hearts of 
song. 

From thy rich treasuries above 

Thy freest bounties full have come 

To swell the laughters of our love 
Around the happy hearths of home. 

The fields have borne abundant 
store; 

The roses and the lilies white 

Have crowned the prairies and the 
shore 

With raptures of their love and 
light. 

The orchards bend with fruitage tall, 
And plenty rules from sea to sea, 

130 




And at the Harvest Home we call, 
Dear Lord, in thankfulness to 
thee 1 

Through mingled ways of shine and 
shade 

Thou hast our foot steps guided 
far, 

And all our pilgrimages made 
Glad journeys under sun and star. 

Our sacrifice, O Lord, we bring! 

Thou hast sufficed for every need; 
Bless thou the meager offering 
Of vagrant heart, imperfect deed’ 

Aud be cur Keeper through the 
night, 

And through the long years of our 
quest, 

Till thou shalt welcome to delight 

And lead us in the ways of rest! 

* * 

* 

Duly Thankful. 

‘'Lawd, we am mighty thankful foh 
all dat we hab receibed fum thy 
bounreefu’ han’s prayed the rev- 
erentdarkny; “en above all, we am 
thankful dat de sheriff nebber got 
erroun’ to take de ole mule erway 
’foh de cotton crop got tended to!” 


131 


"When Pa Puts Up the Stove,” 

Long in the fall when it gits cold 
An’ Ma takes on the shakes, 

Then Ma at Pa will talk an’ scold , 
“The kid9’ll freeze, my sakes!’’ 
Then Pa he tie3 a aprun on 
An’ mittens double wove, 

An’ we kidsknow we’ll have some fun 
When Pa puts up the stove! 

He grabs the pipe he laid away 
There in the attic high, 

An’ jumps arouu’ jes’ lively! Say, 

My Pa is orful spry ! 

He dumps the soot upon the stairs, 
An’ gits blacked like a cove, 

An’ what he talks ain’tsayin’ prayers 
When Pa puts up the stove! 

He cuts his fingers some, an’ grows 
All black an’ white in turn, 

An’ that bald place his old head 
knows 

Gits red ernough to burn ; 

An’ when we laugh, hesnaps hiseyes 
No matter where we rove,— 

An’ say ! Ma gits so mad she cries 
When Pa puts up the stove! 

An’ Ma she jaws erround an says 
Hebain’t no sense, an’ we 
Hide out behind the barn a*wavs 
To miss the jamboree. 


132 



I tell ye, fellers, they’re a sight] 

No picnic ever throve 
Such as we have of love an’ light 
When Pa puts up the stove] 

* 

* * 

His Platform, 

“My opponents are running on va¬ 
rious platforms,’’ said the ambitious 
candidate, *‘but none of them prom 
ise you full relief from the evils that 
beset you. None of them reach 
down into your hearts and search out 
your wants and comprehend the good 
measures that will bring relief. ” And 
he paused for a moment, in order 
that the full import of his language 
might sink deep into the hearts of 
the mighty throng before him. “I 
favor,’' he continued, extending his 
right arm toward heaven in an im¬ 
pressive gesture: “I favor pensions 
for all the republicans, offices for all 
the democrats, free passes on the 
railroads for all the niggers, the 
whole earth for the socialists and 
the five oceans of water for the pro¬ 
hibitionists!” 

And then the delighted crowd went 
wild with applause. 

£ 

133 


The Meal Ticket Man. 


(Suggested by John Golobie’s 
recent article, “The Apotheosis of 
the Meal Ticket Man”) 

Away with the heroes that litter 
the past! 

Tear the crown from the brow of 
each unworthy pate! 

We have come to the truth and its 
virtues at last, 

And our heroes are modern and 
quite up to date! 

Neither warrior . nor prelate is 
praiseworthy now ; 

Neither saint, nor philosopher 
cumbers our plan; 

Let us gather the laurels and twine 
o’er the brow 

In acrown of delight for the Meal- 
Ticket M an I 

Just search through the musty old 
mists of the years, 

For the men who have lifted the 
world to the stars 1 
You will find it was never the 
sages or seers 

Who have healed human hearts 
from their terrible scars; 

They were those who from one va 
grantweek to the next 


134 


In the garret or cellar lived life’s 
little span, 

And whatever their thought or where 
ever their text, 

All the glory belongs to the Meal- 
Ticket Man. 

What matter though seedy his hat 
and his coat. 

That his pantaloons bagged and 
were ragged and frayed? 

Still the world by its modern, unan¬ 
imous vote 

Says it danced to the tune that 
his chin-music played ! 

At the touch of hishand,at the thrill 
of his thought, 

It leaped on the paths where the 
greater truths ran, 

And though in the ways that were 
humble he wrought 

Yet it crowns him at last.— the 
great Meal-Ticket Man ! 

Then hail to this hero of shadow and 
shine 1 

Never doubt he’s as great as the 
greatest in worth, 

And his greatness surpasses the 
greatness divine 

Of the sword «nd the miter that 
saddened the earth ! 


135 


From the poverty-ways where hhr 
fellows hard toil 

All the blessings arise that our 
sorrows shall ban; 

He’s a hero, indeed! He’s the king 
of the soil ! 

Then a song and a crown for the- 
Meal-Ticket Man ! 

* 

* * 

Our joe’s at Home Agin, 

Yaas, our Joe he run fer office : 

Said he’d try his hand a bit; 
Thetthe kentry needed savin’ 

An’ he’d tinker some at it; 

But the’lection now is over, 

An’our Joe he didn’t win; 

But we’re glad,—mean’ his mother,- 
’Cause our Joe is home agin 1 

Joe made quite a race fer sartin’! 

He’s a pollytishun right, 

An’ he’s jest a bully feller 
At a foot-race er a fight; 
Youjest ort ter hear his speeches! 
How they cheered with mighty 
din 1 

But the ’lection now is over 
An’ our Joe is home agin ! 

Spent two months a polly-tickin’; 
Workin’ every day and night; 


136 



Hays its harder work then thrasbin’ ; 

Beats rail—splittin’ out o’ sight! 
But to hear the brass-ban’s playin’ 
Nerves him up, he says, like sin; 
But we’re glad,—me an’ his mother,- 
’Cause our Joe’s at home agin ! 
’Course we’d like our Joe elected, 
But it makes no diff’rence now ; 
If the kentry needed savin’ 

Guess she’ll manage it somehow ; 
Fer she’s got to do without him, 

An’ we’re glad he didn’t wic ; 
An we’ll keep him,—me an’ mother,- 
Sence our Joe’s at home agin ! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

Nobody has to take a dog and gun 
and go out to hunt trouble It gener¬ 
ally calls you up by ’phone and says 
it’s coming around for lunch 

“Politics makes etr-inge bed-fel¬ 
lows,” no doubt; but the candidate 
for office seldom goes to bed, aud ne 
manages to get along on very little 
sleep till tho returns get in. 

It may be doubted whether “the 
Devil takes care oi his own” in every 
way, but we’ll bet our old hat that he 
never allows them to get hard up for 
fire-wood in the winter season. 


137 


In the Shine 
I 

As through the world we wander 

Through comforts fair and fir.e. 
Let's miss the ways of shadow 
And travel in the shine! 

II. 

No matter what the weather, 

Just watch the danger sign ; 

Keep off the roads of shadow 
And travel in theshine! 

III. 

The paths run every which way 
To fool you, brother mine!: 

Pass out of every shadow 

And travel in the shine! 

* * 

* 

Nice Doctrine, 

“Dat sunshine docterin’ am mighty 
nice to read erbout,” said old Black 
Mose; “but when dese yer blizzahds 
come en de clouds hang mighty low 
down, en de snow goes toh sniftin' 
erroun’ de shanty, dat’s de time when 
I want plenty ob back logs en’ a hob 
fiah goin' day an’ night!” 

* * 

Where Bill Was. 

“Where i9Billy Spudder tonight?” 
inquired one of the boys the second 


138 




night after the election as they loung- 
«d up to the bar and missed Bill’s 
familiar presence 

“Bill? Why, Bill,you know,was a 
candidate for constable on the Walk¬ 
over ticket and got beat so bad they 
couldn’t count the votes,” answered 
another. ‘And now Bill’s at home 
getting acquainted with his wife 
again and being introduced to the 
new baby th it appeared since he 
started his 60 days campaign!” 

* * 

* 

The Real Question. 

‘“But,” argued the republican can¬ 
didate for office; ‘‘the republican 
party freed the colored people and 
made them the equals of the white 
folks. Didn’t you ever hear of Abra¬ 
ham Lincoln, who set. your people 
free?” 

Dat’s all mighty true, Mistah 
man,” said the hesitating darkey; 
“but flouah am mighty sca’ce er- 
roim’ de cabin en we hain’t had no 
bacon since day befoh yistiddy ; en I 
«ee h dimmycrat candahdate cornin’ 
flown de big road a-whuppin’ ob his 
hosses like he hed flouah en hog-meat 
on behin’ en bringin’ it all toh me! ’ 


139 


The Sunshine Way 
i. 

V herever your feet may wander, 
wherever your fancies stray, 

The paths that you walk are golden, 
for there is the sunshine way; 

And roses are there with their 
beauties that over the path-ways 
twine, 

1 nd all of the world is a blossom 
that smiles in the tender shine! 
II. 

There’s never a murmur of evil, 
there’s never a cry of wrong; 

The daisies are sweet with laughter 
the birds are alilt with song; 

The days dance by in theirgladness 
as sweet as the sweetest wine, 

Where the swift feet linger in rap¬ 
ture through ways of the golden 
shine. 

III. 

What matters if shadows may hover 
o’er blue hills far and dim? 

A star on the beautiful summits of 
the clear horizon’s rim! 

The calls of the happy lovers whose 
hearts beat swift and strong, 

As they carol the sunshine music 
and whistle the sunshine song! 

o 


140 



IV. 

The pleasures greet ever the seeker 
that comes to their doors and 
woos, 

And life with its sun and its shadow 
is whatsoever we choose; 

And like some resplendent mirror 
it frowns or it smiles as we 
Weep with the eyes of weeping or 
smile with the lips of glee! 

V. 

Then ever and on, my brother, 
through all of the golden days; 
Let us echo their music forever and 
keep in the sunshine ways! 

And whether we walk with the 
blossoms or stray where the red 
leaves fall, 

There is laughter for all of the sor¬ 
rows and love for the griefs of all! 

* * 

* 

Reports indicate that nine news¬ 
paper men will be members of the 
next Ok’ahoma legislature, and even 
the names are mentioned. There 
is no kindness in giving the fact 
undue publicity. The poor fellows 
will have hard enough time to live 
it down, so let us treat them as 
charitably as the circumstances will 
permit. 


141 


Caught on the Fly, 

Love and loud lips soon part com¬ 
pany. 

Accusation is fruitless. We all 
have our faults and are satisfied 
with them or we wouldn’t keep 
them. 

If people only did the best they 
could half of the time, they would 
be amply prepared for the worst the 
other half of the time. 

Some men’s dream of hell is a 
place where scolding women have 
the full run of the range and no one 
dares to talk back when they get 
busy. 

Divorce may be a great evil, but 
every lawyer knows it is often an 
effective crow-bar to pry some very 

good people loose from hell. 

* * 

* 

Never Worry. 

Let us never worry! 

The flowers little care 
How much of the weather 
Is foul or is fair; 

They blossom at morning; 

They fade at the noon, 

And blooming and fading 
Their beauty dies soon. 


142 





Let us never worry! 

The birds freely sing 
In autumn’s drear weather 
As blithe as in spring; 

They chorus their music 
In joy’s happy tune, 

And singing and singing 
Their songs vanish soon. 

Let us never worry! 

If short is the life. 

Whether laughing with music 
Or weeping with strife; 

’Tis the shine of the morning,— 
’Tis late afternoon; 

Ah, the night-fall is coming 

And darkness so soon! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

Love is the greatest thing in the 
world, and it carries the world’s 
griefs on its shoulders. 

If vice were as safe and inexpen¬ 
sive as virtue, heaven would have 
few candidates for admission. 

I am always nervous when I meet 
these self-righteous people. I fear 
they will demand that I make the 
world over to fix it good enough for 
them, and when I fail they will 
blame me with all their troubles. 


143 


One Drawback- 

“Well, did you have a good time 
Thanksgiving, Uncle Billy? 

“Splendid, splendid! Ail the 
hoys an’ gals come home an’ brung 
theyr kids along, an’ me an’ mother 
felt twenty years er more younger. 
An’ mother an’ the gals got up a 
spankin’ dinner an’ we had a plenty 
of raal fine enjoyment. If it hadn’t' 
a-been fer one unfortnit thing, it 
would a-been mighty nigh perfect 

“What was that?” 

“The crusts to mother’s mince- 
pies all soaked in the bottom, an’ 
she couldn’t eat fer grievin’ over 
it!” 

* 

* * 

Signs of Winter. 

Winter’s cornin’, fellers! 
Blizzards soon’ll blow! 

Cotton all is gethered,— 

Money spent, ye know! 

OleThanksgivin’s over,— 
Weather’s so and so, 

Kids a-lookin’ Christmas 
Everywhayre ye go! 


144 



Keep Them Alive 

Keep Hope alive! Though failure 
comes 

Adown life’s varied stream, 
Behold, joy beats her mighty drums 

And brave men toil and dream! 
Keep Faith alive! Though evil strays 

Across the paths you tread, 
YetGoodnessblesses all your ways.- 

The living and the dead! 

Keep Love alive! Though burdens 
press 

And crush with anguish sore, 
Sweet Love shall crown with happi¬ 
ness 

The sad heart evermore! 

* 

* * 

Little Sermons. 

Nothing takes a man down so 
much as to contrast what he is with 
what he meant to be. 

Some people are so sure they are 
going to miss hell in the hereafter 
that they proceed to make as much 
as possible while in this world. 

We don’t know what Satan’s 
steady occupation is, but if all re¬ 
ports are true he must saw lots of 
wood in order to keep up the fires 
in his settlement all theyear’round. 


The Christmas Fiddles- 

r. 

Tune up the Christmas fiddles! 
There’s happiness about. 

And willing fingers waiting to coax 
the music out! 

There’s music in the valley, there’s 
music on the plain, 

And music in the measures of happy 
sun and rain; 

Then fix your fiddles, fellers! The 
music fond and sweet 

Is waiting,—waiting ever.—the mu¬ 
sic of the feet! 

II. 

Tune up the Christmas fiddles! The 
royal raptures flow 

From finger-tips of gladness to 
happy heel and toe, 

Till joyous hearts are beating and 
rosy lips of love 

Are sweet as fairy music from the 
heaven harps above! 

Then fix your fiddles, fellers! To 
match the merry sound 

We’ll dance the Christmas chorus 
and swing the partners ’round! 

III. 

Tune up the Christmas fiddles! 
They’re lonely with the song 




Their bosoms kept so closely in 
silences so long; 

The boys and girls are weary with 
toilsomeness that grows 
Where labor drowns the music of 
melodies she knows; 

Then fix your fiddles, fellers! Each 
happy heart shall beat 
To glories of the raptures and trip¬ 
pings of the feet! 

IV. 

Tune up the Christmas fiddles! 

Where royal music rings, 
Where lips are red with laughter 
and romping rapture sings, 
We ll find surcease of sorrow and 
Care shall die away 
While the feet shall dance the music 
of happiness for aye! 

Then fix your fiddles, fellers! Our 
sweet-hearts laugh applause, 
And Love repeats the echoes in a 

kiss for Santa Claus! 

* * 

* 

Mistah Trouble, Mistah Trouble! 
Happy dat yuh met me 

.When de pleasuhes all am heah, 
En de joys beset me! 

Happy dat de house am full 
So yuh’ll hab toh trabble; 

Mister Trouble, stretch yoh laigs 
Libely down de grabble! 


147 


So Santa Clans'll Come, 

My Mommer says ef I ain’t good. 

Thet Santa’ll stay away, 

En never bring a top er thing 
Thet boys want Christinas day: 
En I’m jes’ purfie now, I guess, 
Er purficker then some, 

En I’m behavin’ like a man 
So Santa Claus’ll come! 

I hop up out of bed, you know, 
’Fore Mommer calls me thayre, 
En dress -myse’f en wash my face 
En nicely comb my hair; 

En then I help my Mommer work, 
En make a happy home, 

En please my Popper all I kin, 

So Santa Claus’ll come. 

I goto school through all the week, 
En never hookey play, 

En I’m so good I’m never made 
Tell after school to stay; 

En when the Sundays come, you 
bet, 

I quit each idle chum, 

En go to Sunday School ez nice, 

So Santa Claus’ll come! 

En Mommer says I’m orful good, 
En teacher says so, too, 

En call me jes’ a angel, all 
But uavin’ wings, - they do! 


148 




En Popper says thayre at the 
store’s 

A dandy big bass drum! 

You betcher life I’m bein’ good 
So Santa Claus’ll come! 

* * 

* 

Mister Sorrow 

Mister Sorrow came one day 
When the times were blue, 
And he said: ’‘My brother, say 
Can I stay with you?” 

And he looked so mighty nice 
That I asked him in; 

Nothing said about the price; 

’Fraid he’d go agin! 

Mister Sorrow from that day 
Hangs around here so! 

Makes himself at home, to play 
He’s my friend, you know! 
When I hint it mighty strong 
That he’d better roam, 

Says he’s boarded here so long 

That it seems like home! 

* * 

* 

If the Kingdom of Heaven was 
like a mustard-seed two thousand 
years ago, it has not changed its 
appearance any since; it seems so 
small now-a-days that it is pretty 
hard to find down here below. 


149 


The Women and the Bill. 

(Explanatory Note: —The press 
reports state that the women of 
America are strenuously opposing 
the statehood bill, and demanding 
that it provide for Equal Suffrage 
and Prohibition in the new state.”) 
It was years and years in coming, 
but it hove in sight at last, 

And we hoped our cares were over 
and our disappointments past; 
It was fought for on the hustings, 
in the platforms was declared, 
And with all the big campaigners it 
. has every honor shared; 

And we thought we surely had it 
where no evil hands could kill, 
Till the women went to 
knocking 
on the 

Statehood 

Bill! 

Don’t the last of you remember how 
we whooped it up with might 
Through the speeches of the day¬ 
time and orations of the night; 
How resolved and re-resolved, and 
then resolved again, 

That our people were the people, 
and our men the very men? 


150 



And we shouted out the story of 
our deeds with honest will;— 
But the women now are 
knocking 

on the 

• ^ Statehood 

Bill! 

Don't you now recall distinctly how 
we speechified till hoarse, 
Trying to convince the people what 
was just the proper course? 
How much time and toil we lavished 
in the beauty of our schemes 
Just to .save the state from danger 
to the dearness of our dreams! 
But, alas! we seethe finish! And 
alas! for manly skill! 

For the women all are 
knocking 

on the 

Statehood 

Bill! 

We have seen the new star rising 
from the territorial seas, 

We have seen it mount the zenith 
where the old flag split the 
breeze; - 

And we boasted of our glories in 
rejoicings grand and great 
As we thought we raced for honors 
in the new-created state! 



Vanished now the dreams of sal’ry 
and the offices to till, 

For the women all are 
knocking 

on the 
Statehood 

Bill! 

O. the grave and mighty Senate! 

Mr. Beveridge mighty too! 

We can understand your pickle and 
we know just what you’ll do; 
There is only one escaping, only one 
to ransom us 

From the rumpus we have kicked 
up and the madness of the muss: 
Give the women all they ask for! We 
were chumps to treat them ill,- 
We’re undone if they keep 
knocking 

on the 

Statehood 

Bill! 

* * 

* 

A Hard Winter Ahead 

“Yessfuh, we am lookin’ foil de 
hahdest wintah dis yeah dar hez bin 
foh a long time; but ef de neighbohs 
keeps on erraisin’ chickens en de 
possums doan’t git too scahse, I 
belieb we kin pull thew toh grass 
widout a-sellin’ ob de houn’ pup!” 

152 




The Charity Ball. 

Rich man foh de pooh man dance 
One night in de yeah; 

Pooh man foh de rich man prance 
All times, do yuh heah? 

Pooh man play de violin 

While de rich man swing; 

Pooh man squeeze de fiddle in 
When he wants toll sing! 
Mistah rich m # an, hab yoh fun 
Makiiv grub foh us; 

Mm’ dat stohy ez yuh run 
’Bout ole Lazaruss! 

Guess yuh'll dance some ober dah. 

Jes ? ez like ez not; 

Swing dem pahtnehs fas’ on fah 

’F<»h de fiah git hot! 

* 

Little Sermons. 

The man who can’t live right in 
this world can t expect to get the 
chance in the next. 

There may be more devotion in 
tears than in laughter, but I’ll tie 
up with the latter and take the risk. 

No one except Christ ever called 
the devil Satan to his face; and then 
they went up into the high mountain 
and into a private place where no 
one else could hear the muss. 


153 


The Santa Claus Boy, 

The Santa Claus boy is the latest 
thing out; 

He’s the rage of the season, they 
say, 

And.wherever you wander, you’ll 
find him about 

With his beautiful, dutiful way; 

He’s as spick and asspanas a dandi¬ 
fied man, 

And his look is a heavenly joy; 

And however he does it, whatever 
his plan, 

We know he’s the Santa Claus boy! 

He jumps out of bed in the morning 
himself, 

And he never lies still for the rest: 

He dresses in haste with the skill 
of an elf, 

And he washes and combs with 
the best; 

He does up the chores while his 
small sister snores, 

And his whistle no longer annoys; 

He’s the pride of the house and the 
king of out-doors,— 

This wonderful Santa Claus boy! 

He hastens to school with a heart 
full of glees, 

And he never turns truant to play: 


154 





His lessons he learns with the great¬ 
est of ease,— 

He'recites in a beautiful way; 

And the teacher’s so glad that the 
boy who was bad 

All liis filings has learned to 
destroy; 

And she smiles with delight as she 
breaks up her gad, 

At the change in the Santa Claus 
boy! 

W hen the Sabbath day comes with 
its Sunday School hours, 

He is never once absent or late; 

And the verses he speaks beat the 
memory powers 

Of the sages exalted and great; 

But he dreams of a Tree, full of 
presents to be, 

And with treasures that know 
not alloy; 

And the vision he sees fills his 
bosom with glee 

For the Sunday School Santa 
Claus boy! 

Ah, well, this old codger laid up on 
the shelf, 

In the rubbish piled high on life’s 
ways, 


DO 


Knows how it all is,—he has been 
there himself,— 

He has romped through the Santa 
Claus days; 

Whatever appears, whether laugh¬ 
ter or teirs, 

Let a song every moment employ, 
As the world tosses gifts through 
the beautiful years 

To the glad-hearted Santa Claus 
boy! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fiy 

Young woman, learn to cook. No 
man wants his home turned into an 
experiment station for biscuit mak¬ 
ing. 

In these last days, a man is known 
by the patent medicine promoter to 
whom he sends his testimonial phot¬ 
ograph. 

The man who gets stooped shoul¬ 
ders from carrying other people’s 
heavy burdens went to the wrong 
school in his youth. 

Religion is a mighty good thing, 
but it never pays the rent bill; and 
the Christianity of warm clothes and 
wholesome food beats its balance on 
the record books of the angels. 


**’Tw 11 All Con e Right ’* 

O, brother, don't you worry, 

When the sorrow briftgsthe night! 
It is never long till morning, 

And twill all come right. 

Do the loads tffeem hard and heavy 
As you bear them with your might ? 
Love will lift the bending burdens. 

And 'twill all come right! 

Do you feel the hate and malice 
Of the foolish ones that fight? 
They will find your heart is worthy, 
And twiL all come right! 

Do your duty to the utmost! 

Then the foes shall vanish quite: 
Let the world howl on with censure,- 
It will all come right! 

God awaits us over yonder, 

Where his lilies blossom white: 

In his love the griefs shall perish. 
And 'twill all come right! 

* 

* * 

The happy days when the mistle¬ 
toe makes raptures for young hearts 
and loving lips will soon come ’round 
again. Heaven grant us all to be 
young and confiding enough for all 
the love and joy^ and the glad music 
of the Christmas times! 


157 


Good bye to Trouble, 

O, it’s good-bye, Mister Trouble! 

There’s a joy the angels know, 
With the mistletoe above us 
And our sweet-hearts here below! 
Then play the fiddle, Mister! 

Love and laughter are in sight; 
And swing your partners, fellers, 
Till the dawning ot‘ the light! 

O, its good-bye, Mister Trouble! 

For the fiddle says, “Be gay!” 
There’s the mistletoe up yonder, 
And we kiss the griefs away! 

* 

Caught on the Fly, 

All things are forgiven to the 
woman who holds her tongue. 

The greatest vice of the women 
is gossip, and the greatest folly of 
the men is greed. 

If some people get to heaven, no 
one will be more surprised at the 
achievement than themselves. 

Troubles have walked the high¬ 
ways of human life since the morn¬ 
ing stars sang together; and yet 
when we meet them on the dusty 
roads we travel, we pretend aston¬ 
ishment and annoy high heaven with 
our cries. 

158 ' 




Too Much Prosperity. 

‘Dis heab big cott-on crap am a 
great calam’ty toll de cullud folks,” 
said old Black Mose dejectedly. 

' How is thaL Uncle?” inquired 
the astonished white man. 

i; So many ob ’em hah sabed up 
ernuff money toh buy tall hats en 
long-tailed coats dat de conferences 
will all be jam-full ob cullud preach- 
ehs befoh spring, en decotton-fiel’s’ll 
miss some mighty good ban’s nex’ 
season, shuah!” was the reply. 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

Don’t go toomuch on the sensibili-. 
ties. Feelings are a mighty poor 
regulator when it comes to deter¬ 
mining the necessity for hard work. 

The days of the gray hairs and 
wrinkled brows utter few petitions 
to the merry god of all the happy 
Christmas eves; but if they asked 
of Santa Claus the supremest gift in 
all the world of men, they would 
implore him for one more Christmas 
as happy and as innocent as smiled 
upon them in the days of childhood 
long ago! 


To the Lonesome Fiddle. 

You needn’t look so lonesome, Mr. 

Fiddle, hanging there 
With the pretty girls about you and 
the pleasures every where; 
For I know your heart is heaven 
with its music angel sweet, 
And it all will go to singing at the 
coming of the feet! 

Then don't you look so lonesome! 

The happy days we’ll meet; 

For the Christmas times are com¬ 
ing 

And the dancing of the feet. 

You needn't look so lonesome! Ln 
your happy soul abound 
All the airs of royal rapture that 
the golden cycles found, 

And the willing fingers waiting are 
staying close about, 

Just to pick your heart to pieces 
and to coax the music out! 

Then don’t you look so lonesome! 

The laughing lips shall meet 

With the mistletoe above us 

And the coming of the feet! 

You needn’t look so lonesome! I 
can see you laughing there 


To the tuae of “Old Dan Tucker” as 
you drop the loads of care, 
And the melodies immortal drive the 
troubles all away 

As you spill the tender music of 
“My Darling Nellie Gray.” 

Then don’t you look so lonesome! 

All your dreams will come com¬ 
plete, 

And Love will swing his partners 

To the tripping of the feet. 

O, you needn’tlookso lonesome! All 
the good times you shall feel 
As you shout the mighty chorus of 
the “Old Virginia Reel,” 

And Love shall join the music with 
the raptures that abound, 

As we heel-and-toe-it lively and we 
“swing the ladies ’round!” 

Then don’t you look so lonesome! 

Love and happiness shall meet, 

And we’ll shout good-bye to trou¬ 
ble 

In the shuffle of the feet! 

* * 

* 

Let the boy eat! The grocery- 
man is a less expensive guest than 
the doctor, and mush and milk are 
more palatable than medicine. 


1(>1 



*If Santa Claus Don't Come/’ 

If Santa Claus forgets to come, 

I don’t know what I’ll do; 

I ’spect I’ll get as bad as some 
An’ cry a little, too; 

I wrote an’ told him plain as day 
What he should buy an’ bring; 

An’ if ho don’t, I’ll always say 
That he’s a mean old thing! 

I want a drum to pound all day 
Per ev’ry passin’ crowd; 

A punch in’-bag an’ foot-ball, —say T 
An’ gun that shoots out loud; 

I’d like to have a pony, too, 

An’ big dog fer a chum; 

Dear me, I don’t know what I’ll do 
If Santa Claus don’t come! 

I’ll hang my stockin’s anyway! 
They won’t hold half enough, 

But I’ll jes’ write a note, an’ say 
The place to leave the stuff! 

I’ll jump in bed at candle-light, 

An’ act both deaf an’ dumb! 

But ’twill be awful here tonight 
If Santa Claus don't come! 

Of course, he may not have to spare 
Jes’ ev’ry thing I lack, 

An’ yet I hope he’ll leave me there 
’Bout all a boy can pack; 


162 




But if heJl come an 1 bring a few. 
I’ll not be very glum; 

But oh! I don’t know what I’ll do 
If Santa Claus don’t come! 

* 

* * 

The Call of the Fiddle 

Don’t you hear the fiddle, fellers? 

It is singing to the bow 
All the glory of the music 

Underneath the mistletoe! 
Then good-bye, Mister Sorrow! 

For the cares have run aw T ay; 
Love and music both are shouting 
And we answer them “Hooray!” 
Don’t you hear the fiddle, fellers? 

It is calling us to know 
Joys that circle to the music 
Underneath the mistletoe. 

Then good-bye, Mister Sorrow, 
Good-bye for many a day! 
Love’s lips are smiling at us, 

Andour hearts respond “Hooray!” 

* * 

* 

I have often thought it very ap¬ 
propriate that good resolutions come 
after instead of before the Christmas 
days. The heart is then in much 
better mood to give them pleasant- 
welcome. 


103 


A Queer Dream. 

“Ah done had a queeah dream 
las’ night!” said Sambo. 

“How was that? Tell us about it,” 
said the interested white listener. 

“Ah dreamed I wuz in hebben on 
Crissmuss eve, en de angels all had 
a Crissmuss tree en ole St. Petah 
played de Santa Claus, en de angels 
all got new French hawps in dey 
stockin’s; en dey couldn’t play ’em 
at all en de white angels all wanted 
fiddles en de black angels all want¬ 
ed banjoes; en dey wuz a-havin’ a 
awful time up dar, shuah!” 

“Well, how did it come out?” 

“Ah dunno how it come out! Jes’ 
ez dey wus a’pintin’ a ahbitratoh, 
my boy Jim sot up a howl foh ’pos¬ 
sum en woke me up!” 

* * 

* 

The Same Old Gifts. 

“What do you expect for Christ¬ 
mas, Major?” inquired the hospit¬ 
able store-keeper as the gray-haired 
Major hobbled in with his crutch 
and rested his rheumatic leg on a 
sack of coffee. 

“The same as usual, sir, the same 
as usual! My wife always works me 


164 






a pair of slippers two sizes too 
small, each one of the girls gives me 
a neck-tie I can’t wear because of 
its color, and each of the boys a new¬ 
fangled revolver I can’t shoot and 
have to turnover to them. Only my 
old army friend in Kentucky knows 
me well enough to know what I can 
use.” 

“What is that?” inquired the 
amiable store-keeper. 

“Four gallons of mountain-dew 
fresh from the still, bless God! And 
I always get away with it in 
plenty of time for good resolutions 
on New Year’s day!” replied the 
valiant Major, smiling and smack¬ 
ing his lips. 

* 

The Greatest Gift. 

The Wise Men in the desert bare, 
Heart-hungry in their need, 
Behold a Star, and forth they fare 
Wherever it may lead; 

And find at last, full reconciled, 

God’s greatest gift,—a little child! 

* 

* * 

. The ballot may be more powerful 
than the bullet, but sometimes the 
gun contains the wrong load. 


165 


For the New Year. 

I. 

Through all this New Year’s varied 
walks and ways, 

Let us like kings Truth’s royal 
raiment wear, 

And whatsoe’er the burdens of the 
days, 

With brave hearts bear; 

For amid the starless night 
Love exalts the lilies white, 

And the hours of wrath and 
wrong 

Leap with laughters of her song. 

II. 

Wherever fate may lead the vagrant 
feet, 

Let us hail Duty as Life’s holy 
guest, 

And in the shock of battle bravely 
meet 

Foes breast to breast; 

For unto the timid fields 
Love her staunchest courage 
yields, 

And her martial music thrills 
To the summits of the hills. 

III. 

Whatever fortune crowns imperfect 
deed, 


166 


Let us keep Hope our comrade 
evermore, 

Nor fear to follow where her ban¬ 
ners lead 
On sea and shore; 

For despite^the tears of men, 
Love shall sing her songs again, 
And beyond the wintry snows 
Blooms the redness of her rose. 
IV. 

With Truth about us and with Duty 
near, 

With Hope beside and Love along 
the way, 

Life climbs the hillsandall the dark¬ 
ness* here 

Grows bright with day; 

For each fond beatitude 
Crowns the dreams of greater 
good, 

And the stars of living light 
Lead the footsteps through the 
night! 

* * 

* 

Finally. 

Finally, brethren, finally, 

We are marching to the sky, 
And all this earthly music 
Tunes us up for bye and bye! 


107 


\ 

If We Were Wise 

“If we were wise,” said the social 
philosopher, “civilization would be; 
of a different metal. But we are not 
all of us wise, and therefore we 
build court-houses and churches and 
sanitariums, and lawyers, doctors; 
and preachers become necessary, all 
being the inventions of our lack of 
wisdom.” And the man knew, for 
he had just been through the ali-, 
mony court, turned out of church, 
and was on his way to a winter re¬ 
sort for the tinkering of his health. 
* 

* * 

Life 

A little day through which we play 
In spite of wish and warning; 

A little love along the way, 

And then good-night,—till morn¬ 
ing I 

* * 

* 

Pluck thou now the Good Resolu¬ 
tion from the topmost bough of the 
sublime tree of righteous will; and 
preserve it as the apple of gold in 
the silver pictures of the life that 
has no ending. 


168 


Sighs and Songs. 

Don’t begin your sighing 
When you see the snows; 

Yonder blooms the lily; 

Yonder burns the rose! 

W T hat’s the use to shiver 
When the blizzards blow? 

Yonder blazes August 
Hotter than you know! 

Hope is ever ringing 
All the bells she brings; 

Keep a life of laughter 
And a heart that sings. 

Good-bye to the trouble! 
Farewell to the wrong! 

Man forgets the sorrow 
When he sings a song! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly. 

The cart of imperfect deeds trav¬ 
els with more speed than the palace 
car of good intentions. 

If the pew would practice only 
one day in the week what the pulpit 
preaches on Sunday, the Devil 
would put out all the fires in his 
settlement and join the angels be¬ 
fore Saturday night. 


109 


The Third House 


Yes, they say the Legislature 
Soon will come along and sit, 
And for sixty days of wonder 
We’ll behold the likes of it; 

But with all the mighty glory 
That around it waves its wings. 
Don’t forget who does the voting 
Nor the chaps who pull the 
strings! 

There’s the grave and mighty Sen¬ 
ate 

Full of statesmen wisland great, 
With profound deliberations 
Ere they choose to legislate: 
But with all their storesof wisdom 
They are slow at doing things, 
For they only do the voting 

While the Third House pulls the 
strings. 

There’s the House, a wondrous 
body, 

Full of patriotic souls, 

Each with ideas that would hurry 
Up the world as on it rolls; 

But before they get in action 
Sober wisdom caution brings, 
And they only do the voting 
While the Third House pulls 
the strings! 


170 




O, my dear, deluded people! 
When the statesmen cure your 
ills, 

Look around before you honor 
Those who pass the proper bills! 

To fie fellows you elected 
There is little glory clings 

For they only do the voting 
While the Third House pulls the 
strings! 

To the Third House bring your 
laurels! 

There you’ll find the wisdom rare, 

Free to tell the verdant statesmen 
How to legislate with care; 

There you’ll find the brain and 
virtue 

That afar the evil flings: 

While the others do the voting 
Thesedelight topull the strings! 
* * 

* * 

Play Ball. 

In the great orchestraof life, if you 
can’t play the first violin, beat the 
drum; if you can’t beat the drum, 
pound the triangle; and if you can’t 
contribute anything at all to the 
music, get in step with it and do the 
best job of marching in the army of 
the hopeful-hearted. 


171 


Sing a Little, 

When the timesaresad withsorrow, 
Sing a little; 

Things will brighten up tomorrow, 
Sing a little; 

And when all the world is gloomy 
and the storms around you roar, 

Then stuff your heart with gladness 
and just sing a little more! 

Whenyoumeetthe bleak Decembers, 
Sing a little; 

There’s a June each heart remem¬ 
bers, 

Sing a little; 

And if winter comes and lingers as 
he never did before, 

Think of all the summer blossoms 
and then sing a little more! 

If the cares of life oppress you, 

Sing a little; 

Joy will gladly come and bless you, 
Sing a little; 

And the Love that never wavers 
shall reward with happy store 

While your heart is bright with sun¬ 
shine and you sing a little more! 
* * 

* 

Remembered by Santa Claus. 

“Well, what did Santa Claus bring 

you?” inquired Neighbor Jones of 


172 


Neighbor Smith on Christmas morn¬ 
ing. 

‘'Why, my wife got me a new silk 
dress and fur boa, my daughter be¬ 
stowed a fine pair of No. 6 kid gloves, 
and each of sons contributed a 
pair of skates and a sled. There is 
nothing like having Santa Claus 
remember you well, is there?’ 
answered Neighbor Smith 

They had both been there so often 
that they went off behind the barn 
and took something tobring the sun¬ 
shine in. 

* * 

* 

Ev 1 Prophets. 

The doleful prophets sadly say 
That the world is going wrong; 

But out yonder blooms the May 
With its flowers and song. 

The moaning brothers come and 
say 

That the world is as dark as night; 

But out yonder shines the day 
With its laughing light. 

O, brothers, don’t you worry so! 
Let us bravely march along; 

The roses blossom where we go 
Across the fields of song! 


173 


A New Year's Resolution 

I’m a New Year’s Resolution: 

I’m as good as good can be. 

And the world will lose its follies 
If ’twill only follow me! 

I was sired by good intentions, 

I was nursed with loving care, 
Fully armed, like great Minerva, 
From my birth to do and dare. 

I’m a New Year’s Resolution: 

You can see me robed in white ». 
Where the fortunes of the future 
Men and nations come to write; 
You have metmy kithandkindred 
As you struggled in the strife, 
And you gave them love and praises 
All along the ways of life. 

I’m a New Year's Resolution: 

I’m as good as good can be, 

And the fates predict my goodness 
Soon will prove the death of me; 
But you’ll honor me while living, 
And if I should pass away 
You will bury me in blossoms 
In remembrance of today. 

I’m a New Year’s Resolution: 

Treat me kindly as you can; 

For I’m growing weak each mo¬ 
ment, 


174 



Starved to death by cruel man; 

Soon I’ll sleep among my fathers,- 
What a countless host they make! 

Who in childhood wentto slaughter 
For a good intention’s sake! 

* 

^ * * 

Little Sermons. 

One lapse from sunshine makes the 
whole world sin. 

If you want to pluck nose-gays, 
you must wander in the sunshine to 
find the flowers. 

The Devil would rather tackle a 
a good man in a discouraged mood 
than a hardened criminal with Hope 
singing in his heart. 

* * 

* 

A Hard World 

‘‘Ah done tole yuh, Mose, how- 
ebber yuh fix it up, dat dis hyar am 
a mighty hahd wohld we lib in?” said 
one colored brother to another. 

‘ How am dat, Sambo?” 

“Why, we am alius habin’ ouah 
troubles. No soonah am de Santa 
Claus bills paid, den de legislachuh 
come erlong en stay foh sixty whole 
days!” and he shook his head and 
refused to be comforted. 


175 


A Quartette of Don ts 

Don’t sleep too much. Remember 
what happened to Adam when he 
tried an experiment of that kind. 

Don’t talk too mean about the 
Devil. There is no telling- how soon 
he may have the chance to roast you 
to a turn. 

Don’t neglect your privileges, 
brethren. There is more opportunity 
to get through the eye of a needle in' - 
the collection baskets than in the 
sermon. 

Don’t worry any about the dead. 
The good Lord will take care of 
them, and they don’t cause him half 
as much sitting up q,t nights as the 
living do, and he always knows 
where to find them when the curfew 
blows. 

* 

* * 

It Died Young 

“Did you make a Good Resolution, 
Sandy?” inquired the inquisitive 
neighbor. 

“Yes, but it didn’t live long.” 

“Why, how’s that?” 

“Well, the good die young, you 
know, and when I went home that 
night I found it had crossed the 
river when I wasn’t watching.” 


176 



To the Love Lands! 

O, my Heart, the days are weary 
with the burdens that we know: 
Hand in hand we’ll haste and hurry 
to the Love Lands long ago! 

Let us stroll as happy lovers down 
the roaring ways of men 
Till the lilies of contentment blossom 
sweetly once again. 

It was there we wove our Daydream, 
it was there the Promise sung, 
For the world from us was hidden 
and our little lives were young. 
There were happy lanes of laughter 
that our childish rambles knew, 
Where the roses gave their glories 
in a ruddy crown for you. 

Let us wander through the deserts 
and the dusty ways they know 
To the green fields and the meadows 
of the Love Lands long ago! 

On the road, perchance, we’ll gather 
some of sweetness and of song, 
As we thread the dim aisles fearful 
and the pathways lorn and long. 
You remember how we pledged us 
all the glories of renown,— 
Pledged the gold of Ind and Ophir 
and the greatness of the crown. 


177 


You remember how we pledged us 
in the fancies of our youth, 

We would run the quest forever for 
the Holy Grail of Truth! 

You remember how we pledged us 
we would banish want and woe y 
As we laughed and sang the love- 
song in the Love Lands long ago! 
What if we have failed to keep it? 
Hard the struggle, fierce the 
throng, 

And the shoutings of the rabble 
drown the glory of the song! 
What if we have failed to keep it? 

All the maddened mobs of hate 
Hurl the stones of mirth and malice 
where Truth opes her timid 
gate! 

Shall we sorrow at the wreckage 
that is heaped along the shore 
Where the waters gnaw unceasing 
and endeavor sails no more! 
Shall we sorrow that the laughters 
left the shadows of the way, 
And the cares of life unlifting fring¬ 
ed the rosy skies with gray? 
Shall we sorrow without comfort 
for the dreams that fled in tears,- 
For the hopes forlorn and shattered 
on the shores of other years? 

178 


We have lost the glare and glamor 
of the dreams we dreamed of old, 
But the Wise of earth have brought 
usof theirfrankincense and gold. 
We have lost the green of May-time, 
but the autumn gardens red 
Hang with all the fruited wisdom 
for the blossoms that are dead! 
We have lost our foolish boasting,— 
we are cleansed of evil pride, 
And we face the past and future with 
their vistas wild and wide! 

Still, my Heart, the days are heavy! 

Wisdom weights and wearies so! 
Bet us run away 'together to the 

Love Lands long ago! 

* * 

* 

Caugh on the Fly 

Beauty is not always skin-deep. 
Sometimes it is put on with a rag. 

If you don’t want Trouble tobring 
her dogs and hunt all over your 
place for game, you should tack up 
warning signs over every fence-post 
on the premises. 

Lots of money is said to bring lots 
of trouble. But, Lord, our shoulders 
are mighty broad and we always 
did think we would like to have ex¬ 
periences of that kind. 


179 


Trudge Along. 

Trudge along, my brother, 
Through the snows! 

Over yonder wait the summer 
And the rose. 

Trudge along, my brother. 
Trudge along! 

Over yonder wait the angels 

And the song! 

* 

* * 

A Fine Job. 

“Ah done tole yuh, Mose, how- 
somevah de people conflastahgate, 
dese heah legislaehuh pohsishuns 
am sho’ly de bes J places in all de 
wide woahld dat a cullahed man eb- 
ber had in de wintah time when de 
wood am skeerce en de snow flyin’ 
high!” 

“How come, Rastus?” 

“Why, yuh fool niggah yuh,doan’t 
yuh see dat Ah git fob dollahsa day 
jes’ toh open en shutde dooah befoh 
en aftah de Sanatohs when dey come 
in en go out foh erbout two houahs 
a day,en den sot down by de hot fiah 
all de res’ ob de time while anothah 
niggah shubbles in de coal whut 
anothah niggah totes in at de same 
good price!” 


180 








A True Hero. 

He wore no crown, he had no sword. 

He sat him in no throne of state; 
He shed no blood, hespent no hoard, 

And therefore was not great; 

Yet to his tomb the nations throng: 
His heart was love, he sang a song] 

* * 

* 

When Trouble comes to your front 
gate and hears you whistling in the 
back-yard it scares him so bad that 
he never stops running till he cross¬ 
es the divide into the next settle¬ 
ment. 

* 

* * 

Little Sermons 

Taking it all up and down, this 
world is a pretty good place. Only 
so many of us never get up or down! 

Lord, we don’t ask to see a thous¬ 
and miles ahead. All we want is 
light enough to keep out of the holes 
two feet ahead when the Devil gets 
after us. 

Some folks are alw r ays boasting of 
how many miles they keep ahead of 
the Devil, but I’m always thankful 
w T hen I just manage to keep out of 
his reach when he’sgrabbing at me. 


Never Mind the Hills. 

What matter the hills above us? 

What matter the dismal road? 
We’re climbing to those that love us 
And crossing to their abode; 

And over the mountains we’ll crown 
our quest 

With beautiful blossoms of all that’s 
best! 

* * 

* 

He Voted ‘ Graft ” 

He was quite a famous statesman 
From a district where the folk 
Were so honest that their honor 
Had become a standing joke; 
But this man that represented 
Such a people, such a craft, 
Always shouted for “retrench¬ 
ment,” 

While he always voted “graft.” 

He was quite a famous “poser,” 
And he had the nimble art 
Of deluding men to thinking 
That he owned an honest heart; 
He was always hinting “boodle,” 
At which hints the lobby laughed 
For they kne w he talked ‘ ‘ retrench¬ 
ment,” 

But he always voted “graft!” 


182 



He was frequent in the papers 
With a lengthy interview 
’Bout the “welfare of the people,” 
And the “octopi” he knew; 

And he made long-winded speeches 
As he raked things fore and aft, 
But he only talked £ ‘retrenchment, ’ ’ 
While he always voted “graft!” 
O, the dear, deluded people, 

Hear this Sermon from the 
Mount: 

When a Bill is up for passage 
It is only votes that count; 

And you’d better watch the fellow 
On the legislative raft 
Who forever talks ‘'retrench¬ 
ment,” 

And then casts a vote for “graft!” 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

The worst thing about failure is 
that it makes so many good people 
most unhappy. 

The man who never, laughs at all 
is as great atrial to his friends as is 
the one who laughs too much. 

No beauty of Nature, either of 
heart or flower or fruit, was ever 
grown without the lavish use of sun¬ 
shine for its development. 

183 


Joy is Here. 

What to us is Trouble? 

Joy is here todiay; 

Care is but a bubble 

Bursting with the May. 

Onward we are drifting; 

What if skies are gray? 

All the clouds are lifting,— 

Joy is here today! 

Harbors over yonder; 

Billows die away; 

There we all shallanchor,— 

Joy for aye and aye! 

* * 

* 

Something Left. 

There’s joy in Oklahoma! 

Let’s go it good and strong; 

There’s sunshine on the prairies. 

The land is glad with song; 

What though the cotton tumbled,- 

W T hat if the wheat was short? 

We’ve corn for hog and hominy 

Of every blessed sort! 

• * * 

* 

Charity not only covers a multi¬ 
tude of sins, but she also tucks the 
quilts in around the feet and gets up 
in the middle of the night to see if 
the blanket is on straight. 


184 



Not Afraid. 

“Aren’t you afraid some of these 
lobbyists will persuade you by 
their' eloquence into supnc^ting 
some bad measure?” asked a friend 
of a member; of the legislature. 

“Not a bit of it, sir, not a bit of 
it! Just let them try it as often as 
they wish!” answered the confident 
statesman. “Just let me get at them 
one by one, privately, in a dark 
room with their pockets bulging 
with the eloquent long-green, and 
when they get away their pockets 
will be so dumb that they will be in 
no condition to make arguments 
again until they call on their employ¬ 
ers for a new supply of oratory!” 

* * 

* 

A Blazing Future. 

What’s the use of getting blue 

When the joys are so amazing? 
This life’s sunshine through and 
through 

And the other life is blazing! 

« 

* * 

I have often noticed that the dog 
which uses up all his spare time in 
growling generally looks mighty 
hungry and seldom trees any game. 


185 


The Legislative Pass 

I’m a Legislative Pass: 

I’m a wonder now displayed 
In a large and growing class 
Marching out on dress parade; 
I am issued “on request” 

From a statesman f u ] 1 of mi gh t, 
And I’ll never know a rest 
Till adjournment is in sight. 
I’m a Legislative Pass: 

I am given free as air, 

And I reach from shortest grass 
To the farthest every where; 
I am happy in the fame 
That around me fondly flits, 
Just to keep the statesmen tame 
Till the Legislature quits. 

I’m a Legislative Pass: 

I have wondrous work to do, 
And I use the mighty mass 
Of my glories daily, too; 

I’m considered pretty nice 
By the hundreds of my friends, 
That I carry without price 
Till the Legislature ends. 

I’m a Legislative Pass: 

I’m the master of the state, 
While the people think, alas! 
They are something wise and 
great; 


186 




Treat me kindly every day. 

As I summon dear delight 

Down the legislative way 
Till adjournment is in sight. 

I’m a Legislative Pass: 

Fly with me,-there’s no ex¬ 
pense,- 

From the weary ways of gas 
And the halls of eloquence; 

Let us travel far and fast! 

Soon we’ll journey nevermore! 

For I know my day is past 

When the Legislature’s o’er! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

The dog that believes in you is 
more inspiration than the tawny lion 
that distrusts you. 

N 

It was all right for the Christ to 
say, '‘Get thee behind me, Satan,’’ 
but I’d rather keep him on in front 
where I can watch his tricks. 

The man of most exemplary habits 
never finds congenial spirits to herd 
with. The marvel is not that Christ 
was crucified, but that he was al¬ 
lowed to live till he was thirty-three 
years old. 


187 


At Rest. 

Fold the hands and let him rest! 

He shall sorrow nevermore; 

Grief has done her worst and best, 

But his grief is o’er! 

What to him the dangers dark,— 

Terrors of the waveless stream? 

God shall guide the helpless barque 

Through the shadowed dream! 

He has fought with storm andstrife; 

He has conquered, all alone; 

He has plucked the rose of life 

For his very own. 

Farewell to the world of sighs! 

He has laid the burden down; 

Here each grief and sorrow dies, 

And he claims the crown! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

Fate is blamed with all the failures 
for which laziness is responsible. 

The world may owe you a living, 
but you’ll never be able to collect it 
till you foreclose the mortgage by 
hard hustling. 

However late some people get up 
in the morning, they always have 
plenty of time to spare for other peo¬ 
ple’s business before bedtime. 


188 


With a Song. 

No matter what the weeping, 

No matter what the wrong, 
Just toss a kiss to trouble 
And soothe him with a song. 

When all the world is winter 
And storms unceasing throng, 
Just clasp your hands with sun¬ 
shine 

And warm them up with song. 

When fortune flies the window 
And leaves you lonely long, 

Still hum the happy music 
And sing it out in song. 

The summer time is coming,— 

Is coming good and strong! 

A welcome for the roses, 

A greeting full of song! 

O, life is filled with shadows, 

And sorrow still is strong; 

But walk the ways with laughter 

And climb the hills with song! 

* * 

* 

Live your own life so happily to 
yourself that neither men, women 
or devils can swerve you one degree 
from the divine light shining upon 
your direct pathway to the stars. 



De Hant! 

I. 

De Hant he come en hollah f’um de 
honey-locus’ tree: 

“Ah’d thank yuh, Mistah Niggah, 
foh dat money yuh owe me!” 

But Ah gib Mis’ Sal a banjo, en a 
silky scarf toh Chloe, 

En de cotton’s sho’ly squandah’d en 
dat’s all dis niggah know! 

II. 

De Hant he come en hollah f’um de 
bahn’s ole gable deep: 

‘‘Whah’s dat New Yaar Resolution 
dat Ah gib you-all toh keep?” 

But Ah kep’ it en Ah kep’ it, twel 
ole Satan come erlong, 

En dat New Yaar Resolution got a 
move on mighty strong! 

III. 

De Hant he come en hollah right 
above de cabin doo’: 

“What yuh done wif all dem good 
t’ings dat Ahtoleyuh’boutbefo?” 

En Ah dassent answeh nothin’! En 
de ole Hant stay en stay! 

When dis niggah wuzzentlookin’, all 
dem good things run away! 



190 


Cmight on the Fly. 

When Hope comes on the scene, 
Trouble has urgent business over in 
the next settlement. 

Don’t wait Jp plant a flower for 
your neighbor until it has to blossom 
beside his tomb stone. 

Growling at the weather may give 
the tongue plenty of exercise, but 
it never buys meat and potatoes or 
swells the bank account. 

Be confident. No coward heart 
ever won an important battle, and 
the battle-field of life is the one that 
demands the fullest courage. 

* 

* * 

Little Sermons, 

He thankful as long as there is a 
buttered side to your bi*ead; and 
when the butter runs out, thank 
God for the bread! 

Charity covers the sins all right, 
but many a poor sinner gets mighty 
short of blankets in the cold winter 
times of folly. 

One heart of love and two glad 
lips of song have lifted many a me¬ 
diocre soul up the slopes of happi¬ 
ness to the bright, eternal morning. 


191 


That New Year Resolution. 

Dat New Yaar Resolution 
He come to me en say: 

“Ah likes-de looks ob dis heah 
place,— 

Ah hope yuh’ll lemme §tay! ,J 
O, listen, listen, bruddehs! 

Ah axed de angel in; 

Ole Satan come en raised a row,- 
Ah tuhned him out again! 

Dat New Yaar Resolution, 

He scrumpshuscompany; 

But dat fust day Ah’s satisfied 
He all too good foh me! 

O, listen, listen, bruddehs! 

Ah’ll nebbeh tole yuh why, 
But when ole Satan comeerlong 
Ah knowed it hed toh die! 
Dat New Yaar Resolution! 

Ah hollahed toh him: “Say! 
Dis house am mighty crowded; 

Ah wush yuh’d go erway!” 

O, listen, listen, bruddehs! 

Ah choke him in de th’oat; 

En when ole Satan come erlong, 
He wrop him in his coat! 



192 


“Said Governor Tom " 


Said Governor Tom to the law-mak¬ 
ing boys: 

£, You are green at the bus’ness, I 
know; 

It is well that you move rather 
slow; 

I1‘ you’ll let me advise, 

You’ll be worthy and wise, 

And the people secure in their 
joys,—" 

Said Governor Tom to the boys. 

Said Governor Tom to the law-mak¬ 
ing boys: 

‘‘I will warn you of dangers that 
lurk 

In the ways of your dangerous 
work; 

If the lobbies entice, 

You should take my advice, 

And turn a deaf ear to their noise,—” 
Said Governor Tom to the boys. 

Said Governor Tom to the law-mak¬ 
ing boys: 

“In the passing of measures im¬ 
mense 

Is involved quite a lot of expense, 
And the armies that stand 
When there’s peace in the land 


193 


Are the most unproductive of toys - 
Said Governor Tom to the boys. 

Said Governor Tom to the law-mak¬ 
ing boys: 

“It is well to remember the wills- 
Of the people who settle the bills,, 
And the anger that lurks 
In the hosts at the works 
Is a matter that greatly annoys,— 
Said Governor Tom to the boys! 

The boys heard the message, each 
sentiment seized, 

And then went ahead and did just 
as they pleased; 

And no one would know 
From the way that they go, 

From the money they spend and the 
peace they destroy, 

What the Governor said to each law¬ 
making boy! 

* * 

* 

. Caught on the Fly. 

If some people couldn’t worry, or 
make others worry, they’d never 
have a moment of happiness. 

Don’t go gunning for happiness. 
When you are least expecting it she 
squats at your feet and hops out to 
meet you. 


194 


Little Sermons 


If there wasn’t a Devil, some 
people would have nobody but them¬ 
selves to blame their sins on. 

When we link hands with pleasure 
for a few minutes, we forget all the 
wisdom Trouble has taught us 
through the years. 

Some people like to move about so 
much, that if they bought a ticket 
for heaven they’d insist on getting 
a round-trip in order to be on the 
safe side. 

If the golden streets could be dug 
up and carried off to the smelter, 
there’d be whole battallions of people 
lined up before daylight with grub- 
bing-hoes on their shoulders waiting 
to stake off claims. 

* 

* * 

Mister Ground Hog 

Ole Mistah Groun’-hog rouse hisse’f 
Fum dat long nap he take; 

He say: “Ah ’spec’ Ah’d bettah 
move,— 

It’s gittin’ late, my sake!” 

So he jes’ rub his o’e eyes wide, 

En dress up foh a stroll; 


195 


He wax his whiskehs up, en den 
He crawl out ob his hole! 

Up yondah shine de big red sun, 
Eh-blazin’ in the sky, 

En at his side his shaddeh walk,— 
So Mistah Groun’-hog fly! 

He skeehed so bad he tuhn him 
’roun’ 

En say, “Ah wake too soon; 

Ah’11 jes’ go home en take a nap 
’Twel Sunday aftehnoon!” 

So Mistah Groun’-hog run en run 
En crawl his deep hole in, 

Toh snooze ehway foh six moah 
weeks 

’Foh he wakes up ehgin! 

* * 

. * 

When Trouble Came. 

Ole Trouble come toh ouah house 
One stohmy day en say, 

■'De road am hahd toh trabble,— 
Ah hope you’ll lemme stay!” 

He staht toh hang his hat up, 

En pull his ober-coat: 

Ah box him oh de eah-muffs 
En choke him in de tho’at! 

Ah say, “Ole Mistah Trouble, 
Ah’rn pleased so much toh say 


196 


Dis house am mighty crowded,— 
You-all jes’ go eh way!” 

Ah take my happy fiddle 

Up dah beside my hat,— 

Ah play him Ole Dan Tuckeh, 

En what you t’ink ob dat! 

*** 

Wanted a Bill or Two. 

“Where are you going, Rastus?” 
inquired the reporter of an old negro 
at the depot. 

“Ah’s gwine obah toh Guthrie 
whah dem legislachuh men am pass- 
in’dem bills!” was the reply. “Ah’s 
done libed hyah long ernuff, anyhow, 
en ef Ah git obah whah de bills am a 
pass in’dey may pass a few whah 
my pockets stay, sho’!” 

* * 

* 

Whenever you find a man who has 
made an ignoble failure of managing 
himself properly, you’ll always find 
one who thinks he could give the 
Lord pointers on running the uni¬ 
verse. 



197 


Look out for Trouble. 

When yuh see ole Mistah Trouble 
Jumpin’ high ehlong yoh way, 
Jes’ twis’ yoh lips toh puckah, 

En whistle night en day! 

He’ll nevah stop a minute 
Toh tell yuh how-de-doo, 

But take ehcrost de kentry 
En jump de fences, too! 

Doan’ spen’ yoh time eh-gazin’ 

Up yondah at desky: 

It shuah will make yoh dizzy 
En pain yoh lit’le eye; 

Jes’ keep yohse’f eh-lookin’ 

Clah down de way yuh go: 

De bulgine sho’ly cornin’ 

De fus’ thing dat yuh know! 
Doan’twis’ yoh neck, my bruddeh, 
Eh gawkin’ at de sun; 

He’ll shine up dah forebbeh 
Nomattah whah yuh run; 

Jes’ look out foh de bresh-piles 
En cross de mud-holes slow: 
'Twill keep yuh mighty busy 

Watchin’ dese hyah paths yuh go! 
* 

* * 

Don’t growl if Fortune didn’t 
trust you with more. Just think 
what a fool she would have been to 
favor you with greater gifts! 


198 


The Good Times Song. 

Sing a song of good times! 

Life is full of bliss, 

And the merry music 
Who shall dare to miss? 

Joy delights the valleys, 

Plenty’s everywhere, 

And pleasure swells the chorus 
Till we conquer care. 

Sing a song of good times! 

That’s the tune for me; 

The bow’s upon the fiddle 
And the fiddle’s full of glee! 

It’s swing your pardners, honey, 
And swing them all the night; 
The good times call the measures 
And we’re dancing to the light! 

* * 

. * 

Nobody Hurt 

“I hear that Slugem and Hittem 
met last night. ” 

“Yes, so they did.” 

“Which one of them got the worst 
of it?” 

“Oh, there was no damage done. 
They made it all up, and nothing 
suffered but their New Year Resolu¬ 
tions!” 


199 


In the Legislature. 

“An’ Oi say, Moike,” said Patrick 
O’Ferrall, to his neighbor Mike 
O’Neill, “Oi say, Moike, have ye 
heerd from yer bye Dennis lately 
who wint out wist?” 

“ThetOi hev, Pat.” 

“An’ how is the poor bye gettin r 
on?” 

“The divil take it, Pat, thet’s whut- 
breaks his mither’s heart ontoii^ely' 
He wroites me thet he hez jest bin 
sintinced to the Legislachoor fer 
two years 1” 

* * 

* 

Life, and labor along its way, 

Life, and a shads of sorrow; 

But Love is there with her lips of 
song, 

And the sun shines out tomorrow! 

* * 

* 

To live life happily, to work life 
earnestly, to leave life fearlessly,— 
what greater success ever crowned 
with ivied laurels the infinite brows 
of Adam’s mortal sons? 


200 


On Behalf of the Minority. 

Note -(The Oklahom iLegislature 
has a republican majority in both 
houses, and the following is sup¬ 
posed to be uttered by one of the 
democratic minority.) 

To the Sleek and Pat Majority: We 
recognize your smoke, 

And in meek and humble fashion we 
have passed beneath the yoke; 
We’ve no foolish reservations: all 
the earth is yours to claim 
With the grandeur of its glory and 
the fullness of its fame; 

So accept our due submission; all 
we ask is that you give 
Ample chance to filibuster and pre¬ 
serve the right to live! 

In the manner that Respectable 
Minorities behave, 

We shall justify the title while the 
heathen rage and rave; 

And according as ’tis written we 
shall every one be good, 
Though we smash the logs you’re 
rolling into fancy kindling- wood, 
While we stir the sleeping animals 
with long and lively prods 
To the pleasure of the nations and 
the laughter of the gods! 


201 


And we pity you sincerely! You had 
quite a job at hand 
To divide the loaves and fishes as 
the bosses made command! 

Fifty places for five hundred hungry 
souls that wild cavort 
Is a work requiring statesmen of the 
most exalted sort: 

And we weep our tears of sorrow 
. as we’re looking on at you, 
While you bump the heads of many' 
and anoint the chosen few! 

You shall pass appropriations, toss¬ 
ing out the toothsome “pork,” 
In a way to please the faithful and 
to keep the “boys at work;” 

And whatever seems the proper 
thing majorities should do, 
Why, the ocean’s there before you 
and the course i$ up to you; 

But remember as you voyage that 
we have a little boat, 

And we’re always steering madly 
tow’rd a record making vote! 

We’ll play our own part bravely, 
and we’ll play it o’er and o’er: 
Approve, condemn, and criticize, 
like statesmen gone before; 
We’ll rant about “the people, sir!” 
and shout “economy!’’ 


202 


And stab appropriation bills each 
opportunity; 

And long preserve our “honesty”— 
unstained and white as snow: 
Since you have swiped the offices, 
that’s all we have, you know! 

And our task shall be most pleasant! 

Underneath the shade we’ll flop 
While you fellows do the sweating 
for the legislative crop! 

We shall criticize your labors; if you 
reach the roads of doubt, 

We shall lend the hand of wisdom 
and in mercy lead you out; 

And at last, the harvest gathered, 
we shall sift the good and true 
For our own exalted portion while 
we leave the bad for you! 

And after while the time will come, 
howbeit soon or late, 

When we shall guide the govern¬ 
ment and steer the ship of state,- 
When we shall trade our craft for 
yours, and our proud flag shall 
float 

O’er battle-ships of greater things 
as people then shall vote; 

And then we’ll show you something 
else beyond the hearty strife, 
And do our best to visit you with 
touch of higher life! 

203 


At Valentine's Day. 

The Wind came out of the poppied 
East, 

And said to heart of the lonely 
earth: 

“I bring you laughter and love in¬ 
creased, 

And all the music of might and 
mirth; 

I bring you dreams that were born 
above, 

And melting kisses as sweet as 
wine; 

And one waits lorn with her lips of 
love 

And dimpled arms, for her Valen¬ 
tine. ” 

The Wind came out of the brazen 
North, 

And said to heart of the grieving 
world: 

l ‘I bring a message, I call you forth 

Where Love the flags of her faith 
unfurled; 

I tell of peace that is sweeter far 

Than song that croons where the 
tropics twine; 

For one waits long ’neath the north¬ 
ern star 

With eyes of love, for her Valentine. ” 
204 


The Wind came out of the winsome 
West, 

And said to heart of the longing 
race: 

l ‘I bring you tidings of all that’s 
best, 

Of love anfr laughter and loved 
one’s face; 

I come from red of the reeling sun, 

1 bring you dreams of the things 
divine, 

And at the rim of the world waits 
one 

Who lists for the call of her Val¬ 
entine.” 

The Wind came out of the sweet- 
breathed South, 

And said: “I carry her call to 
thee; 

She waits with songs in her mellow 
mouth,— 

She waits^ and her lips like the 
corals be! 

She waits with embraces of long- 
delights, 

And eyes that utter a language 
fine,— 

There, there, in the aisles of the 
romping nights, 

She waits for the call of her Val¬ 
entine. ” 


205 


O, call of this world to the world 
that dreams.— 

Sweet call of the Near to the Soul 
Afar,— 

Beyond the shadows of earth’s cold 
themes, 

There’s one that waits where the 
love lights are! 

There’s one that waits with her 
cheeks aglow, 

And eyes earth-round with a fear¬ 
less shine, 

And Near and Par with their linked 
hands go 

To mate with the fate of their Val¬ 
entine! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

There is more religion in a home 
full of bread and butter than a hotel 
full of canvas-back and terrapin. 

If the Lord sends a tin-cup full of 
happiness, don’t spend your time 
upbraiding Him for not supplying a 
ship-load. 

Some people are so unreasonable 
that if the Lord sent them a turkey 
they would raise a row because he 
didn’t furnish a barrel of cranber¬ 
ries, too. 


206 




A Valentine. 

Don't you dare to tell me 
Love is old and gray! 

He’s as young and rosy 
As tha*blooms of May! 

Don’t you dare to tell me 
Love is wed with wrong! 

All his deeds are holy 
With the smiles of song! 

Don’t you dare to tell me 
Love is only strife! 

Hands of his shall lead us 
To the perfect life! 

Love and hope with happy 
Feet shall scale the sky, 

Through the dismal shadows 
To the bye and bye! 


Its Principal Work, 

“Has the Legislature done much?” 
inquired one anxious citizen of an¬ 
other. 

“No, not much,” was the answer. 
“Its principal act was to pass a bill 
repealing Ground Hog day, but they 
fear the Governor will veto it.” 


207 


Life’s Way. 

When the heart grows weary 
Of the storm and strife, 

Don’t you worry, dearie, 

’Tis the way of life! 

’Tis the way we wander 
Through the world of wrong; 

Sorrow makes, us fonder 
Of the smile and'song. 

Don’t you weep or weary 
At the storm and strife: 

Love shall lead us, dearie, 
Through this tangled life! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

Some one’s contrariness is re¬ 
sponsible for nine-tenths of life’s 
tragedies. 

Popularity is an ice-box where 
men are preserved in cold storage 
against the fickle mob’s changes in 
temperature. 

When you board the train of life 
for the city of happiness, don’t let 
Conductor Sorrow ring the bell and 
drop you off at the wrong station. 
Check your baggage through, and 
don’t use the sleeping-car too much. 


208 


Uncle Joe and Statehood. 

(Note: The press dispatches indi¬ 
cate that Uncle Joe Cannon, Speaker 
of the House of Representatives, is 
doing all he can to defeat the State¬ 
hood bill.) v. 

If Uncle Joe’d come off the perch 
and let us build a state 
We’d resolute to beat the band and 
call him wise and great; 

We'd hand him taffy, chunkonchunk, 
and sling the sugar out 
Till that old duffer’d surely think 
he’s what you read about: 

But your Uncle Joe is mighty and he 
has a stubborn will, 

And he’s done malicious murder 
to the Statehood bi'l! 

It is true the bill is faulty; it is true 
if we’d our way, 

It would need a lot of fixing ere it 
saw the light of day; 

But we beggars are not choosers, 
and just any sort of state 
Now would set the anvils roaring 
when we came to celebrate; 

And we think he’s small potatoes 
and quite scanty in the hill 
When he sets himself to knocking 
on the Statehood bill! 


209 



If he'd just be rather friendly, we 
would praise him up a bit 
And we’d give him such a jolly that 
he’d lose his nerve and quit; 
But he carries him so haughty and 
he bangs his hands so loud 
That he scares the day-lights out us 
and he frightens all the crowd; 
And whate’er his plan or purpose. 

it is plain he’s bound to kill 
That sweet chi Id of all the statesmen 
that we call the Statehood bill! 

If he’d listen to our troublesand his 
haughtiness relax, 

Then the bill we love and cherish 
would escape the butcher’s ax 
But with him across the pathway, 
it as plain as day appears 
That our hopes are only rainbows 
and we chase them down the 
years; 

Oh, we wish him every gladness and 
we never wish him ill, 

But we hope he’ll quit his meanness 
to the Statehood bill! 

Uncle Joey! Uncle Joey! Won’t you 
for the once be good? 

Won’t you let us find fruition for the 
hopes misunderstood? 

If you’ll only mend your manners 


210 


and repenting let us in 
We will jolly you forever, we will 
pat your cheek and chin; 

Or we’ll lay for you till doom’s-day 
and we’ll then be hoping still 
That the hqys will overrule you and 
will save the Statehood bill! 

* * 

* 

Small Bills 

“Is the .Legislature passing any 
big bills?” inquired Weston. 

“No I think not,” said Preston. 
“I was over there the other day, and 
I couldn’t even hear the crinkle of 
one bigger than $10!” 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly 

The homely virtues may be old, 
but they are still young enough to 
carry the world’s burdens. 

The crust on the pie at a charity 
dinner may be long, but it covers a 
multitude of culinary sins. 

Every good thing in this world 
costs money; and since experience 
is the best thing of life it is always 
expensive, also. 


211 


The Sunny Side. 

Oh, no matter what the weeping, 

Or what awful ills betide! 

Let us walk the ways of gladness 
On the happy, sunny side! 

When the sorrows come and settle 
With their tears and cares and 

pride, 

Don’t believe their tales of sadness, 
For there’s still a sunny side! 

What’s the use to go to weeping 
When the shadows wander wide? 

For the sun is shining somewhere 
And there’s yet a sunny side! 

It’s no diff’rence what the weather, 
What the flow of wind or tide; 

There's the holy joy of living 
And God keeps a sunny side! 

* * 

* 

Keep Busy. 

Don’t sit down so lonesome 
Through the speeding years; 

Drink the wines of gladness 
And forget the tears. 

Life goes down the distance 
Swift as eagle’s flight; 

Stop to say “Good-morning.” 
And it ends “Good-night!” 


Wait Awhile. 


Don’t you worry at the winter! 

'There’s a streak of-shine about, 

And before the storm is over 
There’s a daisy peeping out! 

Spring is coming clothed in beauty, 
And her lilies laughing white 

Wait beneath the melting snow¬ 
drifts 

For the days of their delight! 

Over yonder smile the gardens, 
And the sky above is blue; 

And your sweet-heart trips the 
meadows 

With the roses red for you! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

A man’s conscience preaches more 
eloquent sermons than the Savior on 
the Mount. 

If men were less evil, it would be 
much easier for their fellows to walk 
the narrow way. 

If the Bible reduced virtue to a 
mathematical demonstration of its 
cheapness over Vice, the mourner’s 
bench would break down with the 
repentant sinners. 


213 


At the End. 


At the end of the day 

What reward shall we gain 
For the pleasures of play 
And the presence of pain? 
When the sun shall have set 
What reward shall we get? 

As we sing and we sigh 

Through the years’ tangled 
ways, . 

Through the winter’s wild cry', 
Through the blooms of the 
Mays,— 

When the years all have set, 
What reward shall we get? 

Through the battle and strife, 
Through the right and the 
wrong, 

We shall climb to the life 
Where the years area song; 
When the sun shall have set, 
There’s a crown we shall get! 

* 

* * 

If the Luxuries and Vices were 
banished from this world, Virtue 
would get so rich in a twelve-month 
that she would summon them all 
back and give them greater liberties 
than they enjoyed before. 


214 


A Popular Preacher. 

“Ah done tole yuh, Sam, dat new 
pweacheh ob ouahs am de bestes’ 
man in de pulpit dat ebbeh Ah see..’’ 

“How come, Rastus?’’ 

“Why, doan’^yuh know, de otheh 
night when de weatheh wuz so 
mighty col’, he nebbeh said a wohd 
ehbout hell-fiah, but jes’ exhohted 
ehbout hebben bein’ a wahm en 
pleasan’ place whah de flowehs 
bloom en de wohteh millions git red 
heahts de whole yeah roun’; en seb- 
enteen ob dern joung sinnehs come 
up to de mohneh’s bench en got ’lig- 
ion mighty quick!” 

* * 

* 

An Incurable. 

“And what is the peculiar de¬ 
rangement of this patient?” asked a 
visitor of the Superintendent of the 
Insane Asylum, as an especially ab¬ 
ject victim was seen writhing and 
cowering in a padded cell. 

“O, he is not insane,—he is just a 
common idiot,” said the Superinten¬ 
dent. “He sent comic valentines, 
and they had no other place to put 
him!” 


215 






Good Morning,—Good Night* 

As life with its glories 
Crowds close in the light, 

Tell pleasure good-morning 
And sorrow good-night. 

No matter what fortune 

Comes down in swift flight, * 

Tell pleasure good-morning 
And sorrow good-night. 

Walk still in the sunshine, 
Where blossoms bloom bright; 

Tell pleasure good-morning 
And sorrow good-night. 

And out through the orchards 
Where mirth rules in might, 

Tell pleasure good-morning 
And sorrow good-night! 

* 

* -Jf 

It is always easy to find plenty of 
weeds in the garden of life, if you 
are looking for weeds; but then even 
the weeds have blossoms of love up¬ 
on them! 



216 


Kansas Has Her Dander Up 

When Kansas gets her dander up 
and reaches for her gun, 

I think some folks will chase them¬ 
selves and hike out on the run; 
I think th ^ railroads will be good, 
John D. b'bme off the perch 
And christianize the Standard' Oil 
until it joins the church; 

I think the trusts and wicked men 
that once were all so bad 
Will mercy pray when once they 
know that Kansas can get mad! 

The people there have stood a lot 
since first the state began; 

They ve passed through many try¬ 
ing times as varied seasons ran; 
They've had the drouth, survived 
the flood, and isms good and ill 
Have overcome with sturdy heart 
and never-dying will; 

But now with patience broken quite 
new battles must be won: 

And Kansas has her dander up and 
reaches for her gun! 

The Octopus must watch his ways 
and guard his awful arms, 

And keep his eyes peeled mighty 
close around the Kansas farms; 


217 


The' days of peace" are' over there? 

too long the robber-trust 
Has rifled all their pocket-books and 
left them but a crust; 

But Kansas has a sudden way of 
stopping all the fun, 

When once she gets her dander up 
and reaches for her gunl 

+ "John Brown of Ossawatomie?' 

There’s freedom in the phrase? 
St. John with prohibition and olcl' 
Peffer with his craze! 

And now the world is waiting for 
the fire-works and the sights 
When Trusts will get insomnia and 
lie awake of nights; 

For ghe will take the bakery and 
capture every bun, 

"When Kansas gets her dander up 
and reaches for her gun! 

O, bold and reckless financiers! 

Take warning ere you fall! 
You’d better stop awhile and read 
the writing on the wall! 

Your hands are red with human 
blood, they’re dripping human 
gore, 

And by the gods above they swear, 
you shall not rule them more; 


218 


✓ 


With hands that act, with hearts 
that dare, she’ll get you every 
one, 

For Kansas has her dander up and 

reaches for her gun! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly 

The language of love is mostly ad¬ 
jectives of the superlative degree. 

At twenty, life is purpose; at 
thirty, doubt; at forty, philosophy; 
and after that, experience. 

No woman ever was so much of a 
woman that she was not still enough 
of a child to enjoy being petted and 
flattered. 

* * 

*■ 

Rolling on to Glory. 

Rolling on to glory, 

Still the old world goes! 

Still the ancient story 
Of the wants and woes; 

Here a little sighing, 

There a little song, 
Preaching, praying, dying, 
Down the ways of wrong! 

Rolling on to glory, 

Still the old world goes, 
Through the battles gory 


219 


L 


Of the friends and foes! 

Here it sees a vision, 

There it gains a truth, 

Moving with precision 
To immortal youth! 

Keep the laughter sunny 
As you walk the night: 

Neither might nor money 
Brings the living light! 

Still the ancient story 
Love, the Wonder, knows: 

Rolling on to glory 

Still the old world goes! 

* * 

* 

Don’t Fall Out with Life. 

Don’t fall out with life, my brother 
It will please, you like as not; 

If you’ll sort its pleasures over, 

You will find it worth the living, 
And it’s all the one you’ve got! 

You would better keep it friendly 
And not rib it up to fight: 

It will play you joyous music, 

It will give you love unceasing, 

If you only treat it right! 

Don’t fall out with life, my brother 
If it slaps you in the face: 

Every time it brings a shadow, 

Every time it gives a sorrow, 


220 


There’s a rain-bow ’round the 
place, 

O, its heart is filled with pleasure 
And its raptures slay the wrong; 
All the stars repeat its praises. 

All the suns exalt its glory, 

And you’d better join the song! 

Don’t fall out with life, ray brother! 

If it has the wintry snows, 
There’s the scarlet of the summer. 
There’s the russet of the autum, 
With the lily and the rose; 

It holds harvests for your labor, 

It has crowns for you to win; 
Open wide the glory-shutters, 

Fling the doors of deeds far-open, 
Till the sunshine saunters in! 

* 

* * 

Not Extravagant. 

“Are the members of the legisla- 
ture extravagant in their habits?” 
inquired a suspicious citizen of a 
press reporter. 

“No, not at all!” answered the 
veracious reporter. “I know sev¬ 
eral of them who came here at the 
beginning of the session with a clean 
shirt and a five-dollar bill, and they 
haven’t changed either of them yet!” 


221 


Away from the Winter. 

Away from the Winter and all his 
wild ways, 

To the blossoms that smile in the 
spring’s laughing days;— 

To the rivers that sing 
In the gladness of spring, 

Where the birds cleave the air on 
the love-laden wing! 

Away from the walks of the snow- 
smitten town 

To the fields where the bees for the 
honeys go down, 

To the vales and the hills, 

And the love-singing rills, 

And the song of disconsolate, griev¬ 
ed whippoor-wills! 

Away to the paths where the white 
lilies grow 

And the daisies besprinkle the 
meadows below; 

Where the roses blush new 
In the arms of the dew, 

And the stars toss the sweets of 
their kisses at you! 



222 


Just be Patient. 

Don t you worry at stupidity! - It 
may be trying some 
Just to keep your patience present 
when the dullard pounds the d rum, 
And the disdbrd of his rumpus fills 
the palace of your soul 
W ith a horrid inclination that you 
hardly can control; 

But the world keeps making music, 
and as on the ages fly 
It will learn the angel chorus, and 
will sing it bye and bye! 

Don’t you worry at the darkness! 

It may seem a little thick 
As through life’s entangled thickets 
you your pathways try to pick, 
And the struggle for advancement 
seems so bitter as you roam 
Through these vagrant ways of won¬ 
der to the beacon-lights of home; 
Over yonder shines God’s lantern! 

And the shadowsall shall die, 

In the glories of the sunshine when 
we reach the bye and bye! 

Don’t you worry at the winter! 

When the snow is all about; 

It may seem a time of troubleforthe 
blossoms peeping out, 


223 


Apd the sere leases ot‘ the' forest 
and the"dead grass of the hills 
Bring a set-back to the roses and 
the lilies have the chills; 

But the world is rolling onward l 
and the spring is drawing nigh, 
When the birds will spill their mu¬ 
sic through the blossoms bye and 
bye! 

There’s no need to get impatient! 

All the tangled ways will cease. 
All the outer darkness vanish, all 
the battles end in peace; 

All the griefs that vex and hurt us y 
all the ills that worry so, 

Shall forsake the roads we wander 
and the weary paths we go! 

Up and on the world forever! Up 
and on to meet the sky, 

And the Good shall slay the Evil in 
the blessed bye and bye! 

V 

* * 

* 

Off the Reservation. 

There is war throughout the coun¬ 
try! Don’t you hear it rage and 
roar 

From the West Virginia mountains 
to the California shore,— 


O er the Illinois prairies and the 
valleys of Mizzoo, 

Fa** across the plains of Kansas and 
of Oklahoma, too? 

Tis the people that are marching! 
They’ve & purpose that is just; 

They have left the reservation and 
are smashing at the Trust. 

It has been a time of patience; for 
the folks were slow to wrath, 

And they thought to go it easy down 
the Standard’s stony path! 

But the loads were heaped too 
heavy, and the patient oxen 
broke 

From the proddings of the drivers 
and they splintered up the yoke; 

And however much the masters 
shout their curses through the 
dust, 

They have quit the reservation and 
are out to smash the trust! 

Yet it was no sudden movement that 
expanded in a night: 

It for months and years was coming 
with tornadoes full of might: 

And the fuse was in the powder and 
the sure result was seen 

When Tom Lawson stuck a fagot in 
the mighty magazine! 


225 


Then the people knew the issue! 

Either yield or fight they must. 
So they quit the reservation and 
went out to smash the trust! 

Tommy Lawson! Tommy Lawson! 

What a naughty boy yOu are. 
Stirring up the people this way till 
they rise and shout for war! 
Don’t you wish you hadn’t done it? 

You are like to break the rule 
Of the ‘‘System” and the Standard ' 
and disrupt the Sunday School! 
For the people are so earnest, in the 
ire of their disgust 
They have left the reservation and 
are out to smash the trust! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly 

If the bad people never made 
scandal, what would the good peo¬ 
ple have to talk about? 

Opportunity may call once, but 
she never rings the bell for the ser¬ 
vant when she finds us visiting our 
wife’s folks. 

The lazy man is always willing to 
give the hustler a big percentage 
for collecting the living that the 
world owes him. 


Don’t Trade with Trouble 

Don’t make a trade with Trouble! 

He would buy you bargain cheap, 
And you’d have to pay a ransom 
That would climb up mighty steep! 

Don’t sell yourself to Trouble, 
’Cause he banters you each day! 
Out beyond the snows of labor 
Wait the blossomings of play! 

Don’t make a trade with Trouble! 

Never stop to name a price; 

Tell him plain he’d better travel 
Witho it any more advice! 

Trou le never paid a dollar 
Of the mighty debt he owes; 

Don’t sell yourself to Trouble 

And the sorrows that he knows! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

The Devil has such a good appe¬ 
tite that y_ u can’t afford to have him 
boarding at your hotel. 

Broken heads are more numerous 
than broken hearts, and they also 
pay more fines in the police court. 

When Faith and Hope leave a 
woman’s heart, it is entirely empty 
of the graces; for Charity never had 
a home there. 


227 


Life and Love. 


Life, and the trouble that comes 
along,— 

Life and the griefs, it carries; 

But Love comes by with her lips of 
song, 

And the joy that forever tarries! 

Life and the love and the bliss su¬ 
preme,— 

Life and the smiles of gladness; 

And the song she sings is a holy 
dream 

Where the soul forgets the sad¬ 
ness! 


* * 

* 

Where Love Abides. 

We walk in the present as roamed 
we the past, 

With gladness before us and joys 
unsurpassed, 

And Love lights the new days as 
Love lit the old, 

With the smile of her joy and the 
laugh of her gold! 

The world and its sorrows no lon¬ 
ger supreme 

Fade away in the smiles of the won¬ 
derful dream, 


228 


And the light of its love overshines 
the abode 

Of the shadows that falleth on 
beautiful road. 

O, Sorrow, stay far in the desolate 
night, 

Where the black of your wings bears 
the bla^k of your flight, 

And hasten, O tears, down the de¬ 
serts that lie 

In the silences vast of the bleak bye* 
and-bye! 

O, Joy, tune the stars till they sing 
through the night, 

While Love wreaths the lilies of 
Good with delight,— 

Till the stars fill the earth with the 
seraphim song, 

And Love with her garlands hides 
all of the wrong! 

* * 

* 

Keep in the Light. 

It’s no use to court the shadows! 
They will hide your heart in night! 

If you want to gather roses 
You must linger in the light! 

$ 0 $. 


229 



It’s Good bye, Mr Speaker 

O, it’s good-bye. Mister Speaker, 
when the motion to adjourn 

Says the stuff is off forevtr and for¬ 
bids us to return! 

And there’s much of tears and 
laughter, much rejoicing and 
regret, 

At the measures we enacted and the 
things we didn’t get; 

But the sixty days are over! And 
this hope each heart imbues 

That the people are forgiving and 
our errors will excuse! 

It was sixty days of labor with but 
little recompense; 

It was sixty days of struggle with 
the rivalries intense; 

It was sixty dajs of effort to en¬ 
throne the people’s will, 

And to legislate the good things and 
the evil things to kill; 

And if we but scanty trophies for 
our battles can disp ay, 

Still it’s good-bye, Mister Speaker! 
We are going home today! 

We have found there’s something 
mighty in the large affairs of 
state, 


230 


And we know beyond a question it 
is hard to legislate! * 

For there stand so many fellows 
plucking at the public goose, 
That it’s moving lofty mountains 
when you try to pull ’em loose! 
Cut it’s good-bye, Mister Speaker! 

If we failed to do the best, 

Let’s be glad at what we purposed 
and surrender all the rest! 

It is pretty safe to figure that the 
legislature man 

Shall receive but scanty praises 
though he does the best he can, 
And with fellows on the left of him 
and fellows on the right, 

Full of sage advice and counsel, his 
is not a happy plight; 

But the record has been written and 
for us it stands for aye, 

So, it’s good-bye, Mister Speaker! 
We are going home today! 

O, it’s good-bye, Mister Speaker, 
and it’s farewell this and that, 
And it’s wish you well, my brother, 
with the work you labor at! 

And if we have missed our calling 
and we don’t deserve applause, 
Nevermore we’ll leave the furrow 
just to tinker at the laws; 


231 



If we failed, r twas worth the trying, 
whatsoe’er the people say, 

But it’s good-bye, Mister Speaker! 

We are going home today! 

* * 

' * 

A Memory 

A scarlet on the maples T 
A daisy down below, 

And perfumes of the gardens 
That blossomed long ago! 

Love lifts the face of morning, 
And walks the twilight late, 
And one is there beside me 
And leans across the gate! 

Love sings her angel music 

Through all the laughing days. 
And we, the lovers, loiter 
Adown the rosy ways. 

O, scarlet of the maples, 

O, daisies down below, 

And perfumes of the gardens 

That blossomed long ago! 

* * 

* 

Richly Deserved. 

‘T see Jingles is becoming quite 
a poet. I presume he must have got 
a good deal for that last poem of his.” 

“Yes, I think he deserved six 
months for it, at least!’’ 



Sunny Side Out. 

Though the skies are gray and 
gloomy 

And the shadows hang about, 

Yet the world is bright and bloomy 
When the sunny side is out. 

There is still an angel chorus 
That shall put the griefs to rout, 
And the sorrows flee before us 
When the sunny side is out. 

Then ring the bells of glory 
And swing them with a shout! 
This life’s a laughing story 
When the sunny side is out! 

And fill the lips with laughter! 

Let ancient worries pout! 

With joys before and after 

And the sunny side still out! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons 

It’s a mighty poor religion that 
isn’t better than some of its devotees. 

If God is in your debt, you can 
meet the Devil’s sight drafts on de¬ 
mand. 

The honest doubter will be wel¬ 
comed to glory while the canting 
hypocrite is hustled into the patrol 
wagon for the infernal regions. 

233 




Fishing Time, 

Yonder by the river 
Grasses growing green r 

And the wild birds singing 
Over all the scene! 

Yonder by the river 
Violets are blue T 

And the skies are dropping 
Tender dreams of you! 

Yonder by the river, 

Where the ripples sing T 

In the tangled thicket 
Burns a crimson wing! 

Yonder by the river! 

We have waited long; 

Let us greet the sunshine 

With a smile and song! 

* * 

* 

Life’s Eternities. 

Who can measure the dynamic 
force of one small life, or even of its 
smallest act? Verily, hethat plants 
faith and hope in one brave heart 
and summons it with trumpet call 
to the lofty labors of the rolling- 
years, has borrowed creative ener¬ 
gies from the treasuries of God and 
throned eternal might to rule again 
among the skies! 


234 


The Days 

Day-time and night-time, 
Bright and black weather, 

Life-song and love-song 
Blended together! 

Sorrow’s an exile 

At Joy’s high endeavor; 

Tears for a moment, 

Then laughter forever! 

* 

* * 

Little Sermons. 

A bowl of hot soup is sometimes 
more Christian than a cup of cold 
water. 

Even a bald-headed man can be a 
prophet. There was Elijah, for in¬ 
stance, whom the bears revenged. 

Patience is sometimes imposed 
upon. Job not only had great suf¬ 
fering, but his friends lectured him 
about his sins. 

* 

* * 

Spring is the creative season of 
the world. Then all the creatures 
of earth and air, of sky and sea, find 
their well-loved mates, and though 
the individuals pass away, the pair 
grows all immortal in the children 
of their love. 


235 


When the Birds Come Back. 

When the birds come back! When 
the birds come back! 

There’s a call of rolling music for 
the lonely hearts that lack, 

And across the hills and valleys that 
have silent been so long 
There’s a lilt of love and laughter 
and a rhapsody of song; 

And the cares that brought the sor¬ 
rows and the shadows bleak 
and black 

Hide away their gloomy faces, when 
the birds come back! 

When the birds come back! There’s 
a sky of sweeter blue, 

With the breezes blowing softer and 
the blossoms peeping through; 
There’s a daisy in the meadows and 
a green upon the trees 
With a welcome for the songsters 
and their swelling melodies; 
And the pleasures trip the measures 
and their happiness unpack 
Over all* the waking wood-lands, 
when the birds come back! 

When the birds come back! Ah, the 
wonders of the spring 
And the blossoms that are longing 
for the choruses they sing! 

236 


And the roses that are sleeping 
through the darkness of the 
night 

Till the love-song calls and summons 
to the lover and the light! 

Then we sail the seas of laughter, 
though the tempests lower 
black, 

As the blossoms greet the morning, 
when the birds come back! 

When the birds come back! Ah, the 
days of heaven when 

All the songs shall sing forever down 
the perfect ways of men, 

And the lilies and the roses in the 
fields of death and doom 

Shall engarland all the path-ways 
with the blight of bud and 
bloom! 

What if long the wait and watching? 
What if sky and sun are black? 

Songs and blossoms come to meet 
us, when the birds! 

When the birds come back! When 
the birds come back! 

O, the raptures and the rhapsodies 
that follow in their track! 

How the memories of by-gones and 
the joys of other days 

Smile again with angel faces down 


237 


the world’s entangled ways! 
And the pleasures come and crown 
us with the garlands that we 
lack, 

When the sunshine floods the val¬ 
leys and the birds come back! 

* * 

* 

The Ways of Life. 

The rough way, the hard way, 
The way that seems so long! 
Yet still the sweet and happy way 
Across the fields of song! 

The sad way, the dark way, 

The way that leads above; 

And still the bright and golden 
way 

Across the fields of love! 

The love way, the song way, 

The way we gladly go,— 

The way of blossoms sweet and 
fair 

And all the dreams we know! 

* * 

* 

What the world may think of a 
man is of small consequence either 
to him or the world; but what he 
thinks of himself is of infinite and 
imperishable importance to all the 
realms of creation. 


238 


Mister Blue bird 

Mister Blue-bird! Mister Blue¬ 
bird! 

Don't you think it’s rather soon 
For the making of your music, 

And the striking of a tune?” 
k ‘I have heard the lone trees calling 
And the meadows barren long, 
For the laughter of the lovers 
And the raptures of the song! 

“I have heard the dark buds wait¬ 
ing, 

And the roses red to be 
Sent the wailing of their wishes 
In a message after me! 

“Never think I come too early! 

I’m the messenger of spring/ 

And the roses and the lilies 

Never waken till I sing!” 

* * 

* 

He has Lived in Vain 

The poor man who never was a 
country boy, and made cider, milked 
the cows, ran off and went swim¬ 
ming, kissed the girls at apple-cut¬ 
tings and husking bees, bred stone- 
bruises on his heels, stacked hay in 
a high wind and mowed it away in a 
hot loft, swallowed quinine in scrap- 


239 



ed apple and castor oil in cold coffee, 
taught the calves to drink and fed 
them, manipulated the churn-dasher, 
ate molasses and sulpur and drank 
sassafras tea in the spring to purify 
his blood,—that poor man has lived 
his sinful life in vain! 

■X* -3$* 

* 

Good-bye to the shadows! 
Good-bye to the night! 

We’ll walk in the sunshine 
And laugh in the light; 

And the roses and lilies of God’s 
holy love 

With their garlands shall crown us 
for mansions above! 

¥ 

* * 

* 

The hewers of wood and the 
drawers of water do but little of the 
real work of the world. The horse, 
the ox, the insensate thing of steam 
and steel, does quite as much and 
more. But the men who dream,— 
who put something of brain and 
heart and soul into the clods and 
fashion them into things of. beauty 
for mankind,—these lift the burdens 
off the shoulders of the race and 
plant a song upon the lips of toil! 

240 


“Say Good bye to Sorrow,” 

Say good-bye to Sorrow, 

And her ways of night; 

Song for you will borrow 
Every sweet delight. 

Say good-bye to Sorrow,— 

Put the rogue to flight; 

Pleasures come tomorrow 
With the blossoms bright. 

Say good-bye to SQrrow! 

When she pounds your door, 

Tell her there’s the highway 
And to call no more! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

The hired hand who needs no boss 
to keep him busy earns double 
wages. 

Money may buy bread and clothes, 
but every thing except happiness 
can be purchased on credit. 

The monument and the mausoleum 
both perish from the world; but the 
dreamer who created them lives 
forever in the hearts of his fellow- 
men, and fashions daily something 
of their lives. 


241 


The Call of the Master 

I. 

This the call of the Master, and this 
is the great Command: 

“Forward, march, to the shadows!' 
Fare forth to the Slumber Land! 

There’s the crown and the purple! 
And there is the smile and song. 

Past the ways of the weary, and 
over the hills of wrong!” 

* II. 

Forth at call of the Master! Still 
forth for his perfect grace! 

vSweet the vision of valor, and fair 
is the loving face! 

Swift the cradle forgetting, and far 
from the.sob between, 

March to reign of the rain-bow, and 
dreams of the years unseen! 

III. 

Rolls the sword in a circle! The 
whirl and the flash of fire, 

Burn the years like a cinder and 
claim for their monstrous hire! 

Croon of cradle, be silent! And 
down, thou curtain of doom! 

Weird as sobs of the midnight the 
dirge of the wailing tomb! 



IV. 


Brothers, step to the music! Still 
on with a shout and song! 

Flags above for the triumphs o’er 
struggles so lone and long! 

Croon of cradle and love-song! The 
ditty and dirge of strife, 

All are daughters of duty and call 
to the golden life! — 

V. 

See, the purples of even! Lo, Love 
has a rosy hand! 

Hate fades dim in the distance and 
grief is a far-off land! 

Sweet, ’tis time for the slumber! 
With croon of the cradle-song, 

Rest we there in the Father’s arms 
where the little ones belong! 


Dry your eyes, my love, and we 
Both shall laugh with rhapsody, 
Hand in hand through all the days 
And the world’s peculiar ways! 
What to us unhappiness 
Of the sad heart’s storm and stress? 
Joy shall hold our hands and twine 
Heart to heart through storm and 
shine! 


243 



The Baby’s Hand 

In these days of loot and lucre 
When no chap can get enough, 

And the man that wins the praises 
Is the one that gets the stuff; 

When the fellow with a plenty 
Of the “long green” at command 

Is theonethat knocks persimmons 
From the tall trees of the land,- 
What for me shall such things mat¬ 
ter? There’saglory moredivine 
Than the jingle of the guinea with 
the baby’s hand in mine! 

O, it’s nice enough,—the money,— 
When the weather’s fierce and 
blue 

And the blankets of its comfort 
Come and warm the heart of you! 

But it soon demands the minutes 
Every hour and day and week, 

With the gall of angry despot 
And a most unmeasured cheek; 
So I’m reconciled to leave it and its 
tyrannies resign 

For the ways of love and laughter 
with the baby’s hand in mine! 

For the jingle of the dollars 
Soon disturbs the dearest dreams 


244 


With the thunders of their mad¬ 
ness 

And the rumble of their schemes, 
Till the heart and brain are weary 
And the revel of their roar 
Drive away the mirth and music 
From the longings evermore! 
But the skies above arc bluest and 
the heavens all a-shine 
With the faces of the angels when 
the baby’s hand in mine! 

Mister Midas, take your millions 
And the glitter of your gold! 
Life has treasures where the 
heart is 

That have never yet been told ! 
There are sweeter things to 
cherish, 

There’s a song of earth and sky, 
That are only faintest whispers 
Of ttje raptures bye and bye! 
You have little that I value! Let 
for me the roses twine 
With the laughter of the lovers and 
the baby’s hand in mine! 



245 


Little Sermons. 

The prophets only dared to preach 
what other men felt but chose to 
CDnceal. 

The Devil is only the personifica¬ 
tion of the evil things which men 
find in their own souls for conquer¬ 
ing. 

Courage is so rare in the presence 
of priest-craft that when it once 
speaks it fashions creeds for all the 
centuries. 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

A Christian hand achieves more 
blessings than a religious heart. 

If virtue were as expensive as 
vice, we would all be malefactors. 

It takes plenty of grit to keep a 
proper edge on the tools of success. 

There is always a hole for the fel¬ 
low that wants out, if he is dirty 
enough to crawl or dig. 

What matters it if the peaches are 
killed and the wheat crop proves a 
failure! The water-melon crop is 
still ahead of us, and a heaven of 
joy in every ruddy heart! 


246 


Love and Song. 

Ah, Love is no phantom, 

Love’s never a dream! 

One hour in her kingdom 
Is life all supreme! 

And ever and ever 
The scepter she swings 

For hearts that are happy 
With laughter that sings! 

And Song is her sister 
That makes for the feet 

All the carpets of roses 
And blossoms so sweet! 

With hands linked together 
They wander the ways! 

How joyous their kisses 
For grief-laden days! 

* * 

* 

Sooner Sayings 

The race is not to the swift but 
to the fellow who starts the night 
before. 

Money not only makes the mare 
go, but it saves you from standing 
in line at the land-office. 

A journey made before the proc¬ 
lamation is issued is a valuable ex¬ 
perience and saves much perjury 
afterwards. 


247 


Sooner Sayings. 

We’ll all go to the Promised Land 
at the time of the big opening; and 
God grant that we get a filing on a 
fine claim and no contest. 

There is no use in trying to sooner 
past St. Peter. Have your booth 
certificate properly signed and 
ready for inspection or he won’t put 
your name down on the books. 

Don’t expect to holddown a claim 
in the New Jerusalem unless you 
live on it. This thing of using two 
poles and a hole in the ground for a 
homestead residence, won’t work 
when you make your final proof. 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly 

Clouds are found where the most 
flowers bloom: only the desert is a 
land of clear skies. 

War may be a gentleman’s game, 
but the Devil usually wins the most 
stakes before it breaks up. 

All the griefs and tears of the 
world would cease if Love could 
only have her way for a' very little 
while-. 


248 



All Fools Day. 

God bless the man who hallowed 
April First! 

(Or was it, after all, some saintly 
woman ?) 

May countless barrels of honors 
brimming burst 

Across the realms he rules so 
super-human! 

A wondrous person he in every part 
With true affection filling all his 
heart! 


For ’tis but proper that one holy day 

From all the hundreds should be 
consecrated, 

While Nature triumphs over Arts’ 
display 

And | Life’s dear memories are 
celebrated: 

This day is ours! Behold, no master 
rules! 

We all are equals in the Realm of 
Fools! 

The Cap and Bells to active work 
awake, 

All dressed in motley garbs for 
their appearing, 

With no disguises for the parts we 
take, 


249 


Forgetful of the maskings so en¬ 
dearing; 

And we, the fools before we posed 
as men, 

In common claim our heritage 
again! 

E’en every dog, they tell us, has 
his day, 

On which fond fortune comes and 
cheers and blesses; 

And as the years roll on their end¬ 
less way, 

This one and that go by with soft 
caresses,— 

How proper, then, that one day from 
the throng 

Should unto Us and all the Fools 
belong! 

There are no wise men to contest 
our claim,— 

This day is ours,—is ours without 
disputing! 

Who boasts his wisdom bows his 
head in shame 

And knows his folly ere it goes to 
fruiting; 

The truth we speak! Today we 
proudly know it, 

And in the open to each other show it f 


250 


We meet as equals once for all the 
year! 

The wise and foolish shout with 
kindred laughter; 

No greater and no smaller fools ap¬ 
pear, 

And Folly flouts the dullard call¬ 
ing after! 

No tryant reigns! No hoary false¬ 
hood waves 

Imperial scepters over willing 
slaves! 

Then doff the fetters and discard the 
chains! 

Today is ours and let us be rejoic¬ 
ing! 

Forget the wise men and their soggy 
brains 

While we our native follies now 
are voicing! 

We all are fools! Let all the Fools 
unmask! 

One great inheritance is all we ask! 


Some men throw a dollar in the 
contribution box and immediately 
figure compound interest on it at 
two per cent per month. 


251 


In the Orchards of Spring. 

A cloud of white in the orchard 
And blossoms fair in the sun, 
When love comes by in the morning 
And sings till the day is done! 

A cloud of white in the orchard! 

O, branches hung with the bloom 
At touch of her fairy fingers 

And breath of her sweet perfume! 

A cloud of white in the orchard 
And skies with their deeps of blue> 
And songs of the purple morning 
That come at the thoughts of you! 

A cloud of white in the orchard, 
Where Love and her feet has run, 
Where you came by in the morning 
And stayed till the set of sun! 

O, cloud of white in the orchard 
And days with the skies of blue! 
Arid songs that were sweet with 
laughter 

And sang with the lips of you! 

The white is there in the orchard, 
The blossoms break as of yore, 
But silent the song and the laughter 
For you will return no more! 


Sunshine or Shadow. 

Sunshine or shadow, 
Righteousness or wrong, 
Here we pluck a blossom, 
There we sing a song; 
Whether morn or even, 
Whether noon or night, 

Stars are there above us 
With their love and light! 

Sunshine or shadow! 

Through the changing years, 
There is love and laughter, 
There is toil and tears! 

But the stars above us 
Blossom in the blue, 

And the days are singing 
Through the lips of you! 

% * 

* 

The great souls of human history 
have come from the deserts and the 
waste places of the earth to wield 
the sword and to hold the scepter, 
to sing the great song and prophsy 
of holiness and peace. Solitude is 
the true mother of dauntless men, 
and from her divine ministrations 
they walk forth to lead and conquer 
and make new epochs in the history 
of the race. 


253 



Dreams. 


Day-dreams and night-dreams,— 
All the dreams you will; 

Black dreams and bright dreams 
Up and down the hid! 

What if nights are gloomy? 

What if days are sad? 

Life is always bloomy 
With the roses glad! 

Day-dreams and night-dreams,— 
All the dreams you will; 

Love is there with kisses 
Through the good and ill! 

Love is there with music 
And her heart so true, 

And amid the shadows 
Still the eyes of you! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

Back-bone is the chief ingredient 
in the hash mixture of greatness. 

There may be plenty of room at 
the top, but it’s a mighty cold place 
to spend the winter. 

Love never has time to spare from 
joy while she demands or listens to 
explanations of a fault. 


254 


Teddy’s on a Hunting Trip 

“Let the meeting be in order!” said 
the chairman, looking wise; 

(And a mountain lion was he of the 
most enormous size!) 

There is business of importance to 
consider; for they say 

That a danger swift and sudden on 
a special comes this way; 

I can feel it in my whiskers, and I 
hear it in the air: 

Mister Teddy’s gone a-huntin’ and 
is loaded up for bear!” 

Then old Bruin rose: “This Terror 
has no pets among the brutes, 

And the first thing in his path-way 
is the first thing that he shoots! 

Even cotton-tails” (The rabbits in 
their burrows flattened out!) 

“Have no promises of safety when 
he wanders hereabout; 

From the grizzly to the chip-munk 
it is well to have a care; 

Mister Teddy’s gone a-huntin’ and 
he’s loaded up for bear!” 

Then up rose the wolf in wisdom: 
“I am sure that Bruin’s right, 

And this Mister Man with Big 
Teeth slaughters every thing in 
sight! 


255 



Why, they say he wears a slicker 
and sleeps close beside his nag 

On the pommel of his saddle in a 
mammoth sleeping-bag! 

We must watch him mighty careful 
or a common fate we share;— 

Mister Teddy’s on a huntin’ trip 
and loaded up for bear!” 

“Mister Chairman!” Said the Old 
Deer with broad antlers great and 
strong, 

“I have roamed the woods and 
prairies and endured the dangers 
long, 

I’ve escaped the hunter’s rifle, I’ve 
survived the winter’s cold 

And the summer’s heat undaunted, 
with a courage brave and bold; 

But my coward legs now tremble, 
even I the panic share: 

Mister Teddy’s on a-huntin’ trip 
and loaded up for bear!” 

“Mister ChairmanF’cried the Wood¬ 
chuck in a voice, defiant, shrill, 

“By what right dees Mister Big 
Teeth come to slaughter us and 
kill? 

Is not he our chosen ruler, sworn to 
keep the law intact 


256 


And to serve his faithful subjects 
with his every thought and act? 
Let us fight if he would slay us! 

Turn about is only fair, 

When he comes around a-huntin’ 
and is loaded up for bear!” 

“Treason! Treason!” cried the rab¬ 
bits; “Treason! Treason!” shout¬ 
ed they; 

“If he wants to come and hunt us, 
he must have his bloody way! 

It would be the direst folly for the 
timid, helpless ones 
To combat the deadly bullets of his 
thunder-spitting guns! 

There’s a better way to foil him,— 
’tis a way beyond compare, 

When our Teddy’s on a-huntin’ trip 
and loaded up for bear!” 

‘ ‘Resolved by all the animals through 
all the South and West, 

When Mister Roosevelt comes along 
we’ll take a quiet rest! 

We’ll stay at home delightedly and 
all his dogs and guns 
Will never find us where we dwell 
with wives and little ones! 

Every rabbit in his burrow and each 
lion to his lair, 


257 


When this Teddy comes a-huntin’ 
and all loaded up for bear!” 

They voted “aye” unanimous; and 
fast and far they hied 
O’er dale and desert, wood and plain, 
each to his ingle-side! 

They hid themselves so closely that 
no hunter cared to roam 
Where these the timid subjects each 
had fashioned him a home! 

They were too wise for Teddy and 
they still life’s blessings share, 
Though Teddy went a-huntin’ them 
all loaded up for bear! 

* 

* * 

Sooner Sayings, 

Blood tells when it comes to an¬ 
nuities and allotments. 

God made the country, but it never 

fruited till the boomer boomed it. 

* * 

* 

The greatest heroes of the world 
are not those extolled in song or 
glorified with monuments and 
statues. They are the undiscovered 
ones who in tears and darkness 
lived their utter-most for the accom¬ 
plishments of lofty purposes and 
failed utterly just before the tri¬ 
umph came. 


258 


Sooner Sayings. 

All town-sites look alike on the 
map. 

A claim in the run is worth two 
in the lottery. 

One contest beats a fire, and two 
are worse than a ship-wreck. 

A stake on a home-stead is more 
valuable than a palace on an Indian 
allotment. 

As smoke to the eyes and vinegar 
to the teeth, so is a contest to the 
poor man seeking a home. 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons 

Eloquent sermons never saved a 
sin-sick soul. 

Hate would narrow heaven to a 
one man’s closet. 

Charity is the first lesson in the 
school of righteousness. 

The religion that feeds only the 
heart can never hope to save hungry 
souls. 

If you shake hands with sin as you 
leave it, you will find it at the sta¬ 
tion to meet you when the train 
stops. 


259 


In April Days. 

The budding trees 
Perfume the breeze 
With breath of blossomed mysteries, 
And soft winds play 
By grassy way 

Through every laughing April day! 

Suns rosy rise 
Through turquoise skies, 

And life looks out through tender 
eyes; 

While cloudlets lift 
Through rent and rift, 

Where floating islands drive and 
drift. 

Clear waters sing 
From stream and spring, 
With music in their murmuring, 
And where they drip, 

With thirsty sip 
A lonely violet lifts its lip. 

The balmy croons 
Of tender tunes 

Sing through the drowsy afternoons, 
And faint perfumes 
Of bursting blooms 
Haunt all the aisles of dying glooms! 

And dreams arise 
Of perfect skies 


260 



And all the worlds of prophets wise, 
And tender hands 
Whose fond commands 
Lead fast and far through Love’s 
sweet lands. 

And bending low 
e fondly know 

The love-songs of the Long Ago, 

So sweet and fair 
With raptures rare, 

And lips of welcome waiting there. 
O, fields afar, 

Whose echoes are 

Soft whispers flung from sun and 
star, 

Still faint and dim 
I hear your hymn 

Across the wide horizon’s rim! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

Drowning men were never rescu¬ 
ed by eloquent preachers who stand 
on the shore and shout at them how 
to swim. 

The church that brings shadows 
to this world hangs no sunshine o’er 
the portals of the next. 

The noblest ambition of good men 
is to pluck the thorns from among 
the roses of upright living. 


201 


Without Embarassment. 

(John D. Rockefeller has recently 
offered the Congregational Mission¬ 
ary Society $100,0**0; after much 
discussion, they have decided to 
take the money.) 

It must be very trying 
When the wicked millionaires 
Desire to trade the pulpits 
Dirty dollars for their prayers; 
But I miss the shame, you see, 
And am happy as can be, 

For John D. 

Rockyfeller he 

Hain’t a-throwin’ any of his awful 
coin at me! 

Of course, if some rich sinner 
Should attempt to subsidize, 

I certainly would see, sir, 

If I dared accept the prize; 
But I worry none, you see, 

And my fancies all are free, 

For John D. 

Rockyfeller he 

Hain’t expressed a notion to be sub¬ 
sidizin’ me! 

But I—I have the promise,— 
You may spread the joyous 
news— 

I get whatever millions 


262 


That the churches may refuse; 
But I'know still poor I’ll be 
And from dirty dollars free, 
For John D. 

Rockyfeller he 

Will never have occasion to pass on 

the coin to me! 

* * 

* 

In the Dark. 

It’s all too lonely for speech, 

Too drear for a swift remark; 

I only grope till I faintly reach 
Your finger-tips in the dark. 

But there in the darkness near 
Where the shadows clutch and 
cling, 

Above the plash of the bitter tear, 

A song and the lips that sing! 

* * 

Caught on the Fly. 

Poor cooks make rich undertakers. 

Self confidence is the sharpest 
weapon in life’s fierce battles. 

It is our own infirmities that lead 
us to suspect infirmities in our fel¬ 
lows. 

Because it is hard for a rich man 
to enter the kingdom may account 
for the wives of so many owning all 
the property. 


263 


“When Teddy Squares the 
Deal." 

They tell us that the good old play 
We call the game of life, 

Is fair no more, and every day 
Leads on to more of strife; 

The cards are marked, the hands 
are stuffed, 

The players bunco feel, 

And graft has all the goodness 
bluffed 

Till Teddy squares the deal! 

The gamblers who have won the 
stakes 

By shady ways of wrong 
Will find of dough their biggest 
cakes 

And sing another song; 

The loaded dice so used of yore, 

The marks that help the steal, 
Will disappear forever more 
When Teddy squares the deal. 
Then honest men will have a chance 
To play an even game, 

And thrift and virtue swift advance 
To happiness and fame; 

No more will robbers ply their trade, 
Nor shout the tin-horn’s spiel; 
The world will call a spade a spade 
When Teddy squares the deal! 

264 


He’ll slay the “bear”, he’ll rope the* 
“bull,” 

He’ll make the brokers stare; 

He’ll fill the jails with robbers full, 
And teach them to beware; 

He’ll fill the rich man full of pains 
And millionairs shall reel, 

' While poor men prosper in their 
gains, 

When Teddy squares the deal. 

I think that life will be worth while 
When force and fraud no more 
Confederate with smirk and smile 
To grab the people’s store; 

Get in the game! The laws will 
cease 

To help the robbers steal, 

And all the land will live in peace 

Wh£n Teddy squares the deal! 

* * 

* 

A Date with Joy. 

When Sorrow stops and hails you, " 
Your pleasures to destroy, 

Just tell him, “Something ails you! 
I’ve got a date with Joy!” 

“The roads are good for travel,— 
You’d better go away; 

Just hit the flying gravel, 

For Joy is here today!” 


265 


The Gods and the Man-Child 

I. 

The Gods of Life, to the Man-Child 
crept 

The whispered low as the Man-Child 
slept,— 

The God of Love and the God of 
Hate, 

And the God of the Glories Three; 

And smiles and frowns wove the 
Man-Child’s fate 

In a crown that was sad to see! 
II. 

‘ l Come worship me!” said the God of 
Love, 

‘’And life shall equal the realms 
above; 

My cheeks are ruddy and white in 
turn,— 

And my lips are as red as win$, 

And Grief ne’er comes where the 
pleasures burn 

And the joys that are slaves of 
mine!” 

ILL 

“Come worship me!” said the God 
of Hate; 

“Revenge is sweetest of faith and 
fate! 


266 



To conquer foes that revile and leer 

W ith the scorn of the fiends of 
hell, 

Is work that brings to the soul good 
cheer 

And is worthy of doing well!” 

IV. 

‘‘There is no worship like that of 
me!” 

Cried long the God of the Glories 
Three; 

“I have no love and I have no hate, 

But the Power and Wealth and 
Fame; 

The crowns I hold are the crowns of 
state 

And of gold and the world’s ac¬ 
claim!” 

V. 

The Man-Child woke from the world 
old dream, 

And launched his boat on the tossing 
stream; 

A God he sought that was none of 
these, 

But a greater and sweeter far, 

And question made, of the rain and 
breeze, 

And the blossom and blazing star! 


267 


VI. 

He heard faint calls from the far-off 
days; 

He saw faint steps in the lonely ways; 
He caught faint glimpses by way- 
side path, 

As he threaded the shadows dim, 
And through the years with their 
peace and wrath 

In the quest of the soul |for Him! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

Love heals the wound that truth 
only irritates. 

The world offers no standing-room 
for the lazy man. 

Palpitation of the tongue is the 
most chronic disease known to the 
race of women. 

* * 

* 

Sooner Sayings. 

The swift horse plants the first 
stake. 

It is well enough to be early, but 
too early is worse than too late. 

A quarter section isn’t big enough 
for a potato patch when two men 
claim it. 


April 22, 1889—1905 

It is sixteen years since the race for 
homes,—it is sixteen years today 

Since we on that April morning 
lined up for the mighty race; 

And after the strenuous toiling and 
the griefs that have gone away, 

The fields are glad with their 
beauty and the land is a dream 
of grace. 

We raced for homes in the desert 
ways, and we won themfair and 
square; 

We built so well as the swift years 
fled that life was a laughing 
thing; 

And the joys that come as the crowns 
of life, the joys that are sweet 
and fair, 

Build close their nests by the 
brooding eaves where the rose- 
vines climb and cling. 

We knew when we entered the 
strange, new land there .were 
labors of might to do; 

We knew that Want with his dead¬ 
ly sword stood guard at the 
desert gate, 

269 


/ 


But far to the swarded prairies and 
valleys that no cne knew, 

We spurred our steeds on the holy 
quest for the stars of a mighty 
state! 

The Drouth came out of the sere 
south-west and the corn died 
low in a day; 

The copper sun looked out of a 
sky that burned with a molten 
fire; 

While Hope sank deep in the bravest 
heart, and over the barren way 

The dumb feet trailed in thesteps 
of Want and dead was the old 
desire. 

And Famine came with her sunken 
eyes from the dust of the parch¬ 
ing fields 

And tapped the door with her 
bony hands and her fingers 
gaunt and thin; 

Ah, Hearts grow faint at the hun¬ 
ger-cry and the arm of the mas¬ 
ter yields 

When all the world is a heap of 
dust that its creatures wrig¬ 
gle in! 


270 


But Plenty heard of our want and 
woe,andgave withalavish hand, 

And Love loaned ever her cruise 
of oil that never of fullness 
fails; 

The God of the rains heard all our 
cries and He watered the thirsty 
land 

And sent us a patch of turnips in¬ 
stead of a flock of quails! 

O, years of the strife and struggle! 
O, years of the wrath and wrong! 

The hands of toil smote the sleep¬ 
ing fields and they woke with 
the blooms of light; 

The homes we wrought are the homes 
of peace, where life is a tender 
song, 

And the pleasures romp through 
the laughing days and the 
dreams go down the night! 

Between the seas of the big, round 
world there never was such a 
land! 

A land that walks in the paths of 
peace where the stars in their 
plenty shine; 

And the fields are fair with the har¬ 
vests there and the gifts of the 
toiler’s hand, 


And the fruit hangs red in the 
orchard trees and the grapes 
on the purple vine! 

It is sixteen years since we ran the 
race, it is sixteen mighty years, 
And the days have come and gone 
again, with the gifts that the 
strong men claim; 

And after the days of the struggle, 
the griefand toil atid tears, 

The wilderness smiles in its beauty 
’neath the stars of a wondrous 
fame. 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

The younger a bride, the sooner 
a grass widow. 

Lilies are pretty, but theoldfash- 
ioned potato sticks closer to the ribs. 

A magnate and his money are dif¬ 
ferent propositions to the missionary 
societies. 

* * 

* 

Willie’s Easter, 

When Easter Sunday comes along 
I hunt and hunt so hard, 

And find a nest of rabbit eggs 
Out yonder in the yard; 
They’re red and yellow, blue and 
green, 


272 


All colored every way, 

And when the rabbits lay their 
eggs 

I know it’s Easter day. 

My Mamma cooks a lot of eggs 
For little Bud and me, 

And says for us to eat ourselves 
As full as we can be; 

And then we go to d ress ou rsel ves, 
And find in every shoe, 

The rabbits le t a pile of eggs 
As Easter rabbits do. 

And Mamma tells us of the Christ 
Who came to earth and died, 
And was so good in all he did 
He soon got crucified; 

But when they took him from the 
Cross 

And buried him aw T ay, 

He came to life and rose'again 
And started Easter day. 

And Mamma has some lilies, too, 
And glad flowers of the spring, 
And tells us how the world wakes 
up, 

And tells the birds to sing: 

And I like Easter mighty well, 
But what is best, I say, 

Is when you find the rabbit eggs 
And know it’s Easter day! 

273 


Little Sermons 

Faith is a great heart-cleaner. 

The godly man never worries over 
hell-fire. 

Good intentions never make the 
dollars ring in the collection plate. 

A man’s meanness and woman’s 
frailty make a pair that prayer can’t 
beat when they get together. 

The Devil never attends the church 
of a scolding preacher. He knows 
that his presence is unnecessary. 

If you wanta balance in your favor 
on God’s books, see to it that there 
is no balance against you on the 
books of men. 

At the birth-hour of every soul, 
there overhangs a divine plan direct¬ 
ing its plans and purposes. That 
plan is holy and immaculate; it has 
neither spot nor blemish; and as the 
soiil walks out upon the highways 
of its life, dim whispers and faint 
intuitions try to teach the road it 
ought to travel to the stars. Happy 
the man who understands the story 
and walks with unerring feet the 
divine lanes of life and light until 
the shadows fall again! 


274 



The Blossom Ways. 

With one true heart and a hand that 
stays, 

This world rolls ever the blossom 
ways, 

And there as it roams the sweet’ 
paths over, 

The honey bees and the laughing 
clover! 

And Love comes by with her lips of 
song, 

To hush the cries and the calls of 
wrong, 

Till life romps on to a merry meas¬ 
ure 

With dimpled hands and a heart of 
pleasure! 

* 

* * 

Sooner Sayings. 

The swift horse makes the safe 
filing. 

Getting in line is easy, but it’s 
where you want to get that costs 
the money. 

A mother-in-law may not be a pop¬ 
ular member of the family, but your 
wife’s folks will do to visit when 
the crops fail. 


275 


A Modern Love Story 

Anent the present divorce agita¬ 
tion, I find in an old paper the fol¬ 
lowing skit which is still in point: 

Chapter I. 

They met in the Spring 

And admired everything. 

Chapter II. 

In the Summer she said, 

'‘Yes, dear, we will wed!” 

Chapter III. 

In the Autumn this pair 

Had a spat, I declare! 

Chapter IV. 

In the winter, of course, 

They procured a divorce! 

* * 

* 

However it may happen, there are 
times when the common-place soul 
rebels at the petty chains of trifles 
and seeks acquaintance with the 
infinite. Then it is a companion of 
the stars, an associate of wind and 
wave, and all of Nature’s immeasur¬ 
able forces. Happy he whose sanity 
is so brave and strong as to walk 
with the blossoms at his feet and 
the stars above his head. 


Sooner Sayings 

Usury knows no law in a new 
country. 

It’s a poor claim that won’t beat 
Arkansaw. 

It takes more than a map and a 
real-estate sign to make a city. 

All signs fail in dry weather,— 

except those of the money-lenders. 

* 

* * 

Better Hurry.* 

Man, you’d better hurry! 

Life is mighty swift, 

Fled before you know it 
With the stars adrift! 

Soak yourself with sunshine 
All the blessed day; 

Yonder come the shadows 

And the night of gray! 

* * 

* 

If Love Abides. 

Old Mister Trouble hides his face 
And crosses o’er the slope, 

When Love is laughing on the place 
And links her hands with Hope. 

No matter if in darkest night 

Through tangled ways we grope, 
If Love abides with living light 
Still lip to lip with Hope! 


2 ' 


The Rim of the Circle, 

I. 

We travel the rim of the circle; the 
center is under the feet; 

Today is the sire of tomorrow, the 
noon and the night never meet; 

The mornings come out of the pur¬ 
ple to die in the light of the day. 

And over the dead of the ages the 
living are up and away! 

II. 

We travel the rim of the circle! The 
roses are ruddy and red 

Where the blossoms that burst into 
beauty are sleeping the sleep 
of the dead; 

And the trees in the deeps of the 
forest wave scepters of laughter 
and light 

Where the monarchs have perished 
forever and sheathed are the 
swords of their might. 

III. 

We travel the rim of the circle! The 
peoples that struggled and 
wrought 

Are the dust of the ways that we 
wander, with truths they dis¬ 
covered and taught; 


278 


And bade to tbe morning we hasten, 
—the morning when nations 
were new,— 

For the Voice of the Master is call¬ 
ing,and still there is labor to do. 

• IV, 

We travel the rim of the circle, yet 
wider and wider it grows, 

Yet farther and farther it reaches 
till Love conquers all of her foes, 

And Faith to the far journey beck¬ 
ons, and Truth with her promi¬ 
ses sweet 

Sounds the call of themasterful ages 
and hurries the march of the feet. 

V. 

We travel the rim of the circle! Its 
path is a way of delight; 

The morning brings ever the noon¬ 
day and conquers the shadows 
of night; 

And whether we walk it a little, or 
whether we wander it far, 

Still widens the rim of the circle, 
and yonder the sun and the star! 



279 


Playing the Game 

When Willie first began the game. 
He saw but little in it, 

And often wondered how he came 
To let himself begin it; 

But soon he learned the ball to hit 
A mighty blow elastic, 

And shouted at the rise of it 
With yells enthusiastic. 

He talked so much of hits and runs, 
Of strikes and fouls and bases. 
That we, the poor admiring ones, 
Could hardly hold our faces; 

His boasting never found an end, 
His bat was always ready, 

And every day he had to spend 

Some hours in practice steady. 
He never seemed prepared for 
meals,— 

The game held him completely; 
He kept so busy making “steals,” 
And running home so neatly; 
And if a “home run” batted he, 

We could forget it never; 

His talk would all about it be 
Forever and forever! 

Sometimes I think that Willie’s 
game 

Is like the game life’s playing: 
At first we wonder how we came 


280 


Around here to be’staying; 

And then we find the game is worth 
The stakes that humans stagger, 
And anxious are to win the earth 
With “home run’’ or “three- 
bagger.” 

We practice up from day to day 
To gain applause and prizes, 
And fool the precious hours away 
With toilsome exercises; 

Yet ’tis worth while whate’er the 
strife, 

Whatever you are doing, 

To play your best the game of life 
And keep the prize pursuing. 


* * 
* 


Little Sermons. 

Love pardons where the law con¬ 
demns. 

It’s a poor religion that joins the 
church for popularity. 

Both God and the Devil know that 
neither of them can depend on the 
hypocrite. 

A cup of cold water bestowed in 
mercy has mbre Christian qualities 
than millions of dollars given for 
the astonishment of men. 



281 



With the May time Blossoms. 

I. 

Out with the May-time blossoms l' 
How sweet is the May-time song,. 

Far from the griefs and sorrows and 
all of the cries of wrong! 

II. 

Out with the May-time blossoms r 
where the pleasures dance the 
light, 

And Love is a laughing fairy that 
kisses the lilies white! 

III. 

Out with the May-time blossoms, 
where the mocking-bird is king, 

And the songs of the thrush in chorus 
with all of the laughters ring! 

IV. 

Out with the May-time blossoms! 
For the lilies lead the way, 

And the roses blush theirgreetings 
and Love is the Queen of May! 

V. , 

And the breezes whisper “Welcome” 
and sweet is the vale and stream! 

And life with the rose and lily is 
only a lover’s dream! 


282 



VI. 

Out with the May-time blossoms! * 

Let youth and her fancies play, 

For Love is the light of the lily and 

Love is the rose’s wayl 
* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly. 

Even a dead lie has a poisonous 
sting. 

Social stars are not all of the first 
magnitude. 

Grit in men and granite in stone 
are similar qualities. 

Good opinions are valuable only 
as they come from good people. 

Love never yet held poison to the 
lips or poured vitrol in a wound. 

He only is truly rich who carries 
the sufficiencies of life within his 
soul. 

The musician who would be prais¬ 
ed by the ravens must learn to croak 
in their serenades. 

Before great men can grow, the 
proper raw material must be provid¬ 
ed. Pearls can’t be made from putty. 

V ^ 


283 


My Heritage 

I am rich in the treasures of earth, 
In the deeds that the fathers have 
done, 

And for me from the moment of birth 
All the gifts of the stars and the 
sun! 

At my feet have the multitudes cast 
What the ages have conquered and 
wrought,— 

All the wonders of present and past, 
All the truths that the sages have 
taught. 

I’m the heir of the sea and the sky, 
Of the storm and sun and the star, 

And the morning of time toils for me 
Till I cross o’er the outermost bar. 

Every truth that the teachers at¬ 
tained, 

Every vision the dreamers have 
. known 

Every thought the philosophers 
gained, 

Is forever and ever my own. 

I’m the heir of the land and the sea! 
’Twas for me that they finished 
their quest; 

For they toiled the slow cycles for 
me 


284 


And they wrought that my days 

may be blest! 

* * 

* 

Shadow and Shine. 

■“This world is full of trouble, 

And of sorrows, too, my boy !’ 1 
But Love is here with laughter 
And she dwells along with Joy! 

This life is full of grieving, 

Every pleasure to destroy!” 

But Love is here with gladness 
And she fills the days with Joy! 

**This path is full of darkness 
And the gloomy ways annoy!” 
But Love lights all her candles 
And unveils the stars of Joy! 

O, this world and all that’s in it,— 
Life and every tiny toy! 

Love is all we crave or care for,— 
Love who links her hands with 
Joy! 

* * 

* 

The Quest. 

Over the hills that rise 
Still pursue the quest, 
Seeking in the shadows 
For the best,—the best! 

And beyond the summits gleam 
All the glories of the dream! 


285 


Brighter than the Dreams, 

Never mind the brooding shadows, 
Nor how dark they seem! 
Sweeter are the laughing meadows 
Than the dreams we dream. 
Never mind the waves that sever 
As we sail the stream; 

Lo, the harbor’s brighter ever 
Than the dreams we dream! 

Never mind the griefs that wander 
Where no stars may beam; 
There’s a heaven fairer yonder 
Than the dreams we dream! 
Never mind the Sword or Miter,— 
Hard or holy theme; 

Brother mine, the world is brighter 
Than the dreams we dream! 

Still the dream and still the dream¬ 
ing, 

Through the tangled scheme; 
But the stars of love are gleaming 
Brighter than the Dream! 

Little Sermons 

The cup that runs over is the one 
that we neglect to empty. 

Those who would lie down in green 
pastures must not sow too many 
weeds and wild oats. 


286 


Howdy, Mister Summer, 

It’s howdy, Mister Summah! 

Ah’s glad toh see yoh face; 

Ah hope yuh’ll lak de kentry 
En visit all de place! 

It’s howdy, Mistah Summah! 
We’ll happy be, Ah knows, 

Wid shiny watah-melons 
Eh-crowdin’ in de rows! 

So howdy, Mistah Summah! 

All’s glad yuh back ehgin; 

We’ll ten’ de craps tohgetheh, 

En roll de melons in! 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

Fast people demand a religion 
trained to their own pace. 

Whatever may be thought of the 
teachings of conventional theology 
and its peculiar dogmas, it is unde¬ 
niable that a moral and an upright 
manner of living secures the high¬ 
est happiness for the human family. 
If death re only a passage-way to 
eternal sleep, still a goodly life is 
worth the living for the little years 
of this world only. 


Sooner Sayings 

Every man’s horse is the fleetest, 
in the contest records. 

Fortune favors the first man on 
the ground,—if he sets his stake 
and stays with it. 

Statehood and “manana” are put¬ 
ting up a fierce contest to become 
exact synonyms. 

* * 

* 

A Happy Dream, 

“Ah had a happy dream the otheh 
night, Boss; jes’ de happies’ one I 
evah had in all my life!’’ 

“How was that, Rastus?” 

“Well, suh, Ah dreamed dat Ah 
wuz in a field of water-melons jes’ 
eh-eatin’ widout eitheh knife or 
spoon, en de juice a drippin’ often 
my chin in areg’lah stream!” 

*** 

Still Going. 

The black way and the bright way, 
And still we trudge along, 

With sunshine o’er each path-way 
And life a summer song. 

The tear-drop and the heart-ache, 
And still we tread the years, 

With Love enough for gladness 
And Joy enough for tears! 


288 


Little Sermons. 

When envy enters a man’s heart, 
the devil never gives him any more 
attention. 

The devil needs no mortgage on 
the Pharisee. He already owns him 
in fee simple. 

When a man comes to believe he 
is better than his neighbors, it is 
high time he were hunting the mourn¬ 
er’s bench. 

* * 

* 

At the Turning of the Lane. 

Say good-bve to grief and sorrow, 
Leave them in a high disdain; 

All the raptures come tomorrow 
At the turning of the lane! 

What if over you the shadows 
And the nights of cold and rain? 
Yonder smile the laughing meadows 
At the turning of the lane! 

Still the rose and still the rapture 
Woven through the tangled skein, 
And the joys we still shall capture 
At the turning of the lane. 

All the rain-bows arch their story 
Bright above the hill and plain; 

If we wait, we’ll see the glory 
At the turning of the lane! 


289 


At the Twilight. 

I. 

As sure as the red years die, dear, 
as sure as the red years die, 

The day and the hour will come, 
dear, to whisper alast good-bye,- 

When Love shall unloose the hand¬ 
clasp and under the heaping 
clays 

Shall hide in the shadows dark, dear, 
the dreams of the by-gone days! 

II. 

Whatever the paths we wander, they 
lead to the ways that part! 

One goes to the realm of shadows, 
one waits with a lonely heart; 

And tears that we weep together 
shall come at the cry of prayer 

And flow in a flood of grieving at 
pangs of the parting there. 

III. 

The roses will bloom as red, dear, 
through all’of the laugh ingland; 

The lilies will grow as white, dear, 
but neither will understand; 

For what is the rose and lily to 
hearts that murmur and moan, 

With eyes that were bright all dim, 
dear, and one of us here alone! 


290 




IV. 

Ah, one that is left shall murmur and 
ask of the bud and bloom, 

And question the awful silence and 
mourn at the gates of gloom; 

And call through the nights of dark¬ 
ness and sit at the doors of woe, 

And never an answer at all, dear,' 
from lips that it used to know! 

V. 

And one at the darkened window and 
door of the heart’s old home, 

Shall wait with an unspoke welcome 
for one that shall never come; 

And one at the gate stand watching 
as there in the years before, 

While the latch of the gate is silent 
and one shall return no more! 

VI. 

Whichever it be that goes, dear, 
whichever it be that stays, 

The lily and rose shall bloom, dear, 
through all of the lonely days; 

And all that we lived so bravely and 
all that we loved so long . 

Shall dwell with the one that stays, 
dear, and lighten the lips with 
song. 

VII. 

Enough that the joys were many, 
that Love was a sun and star! 


291 


Enough that we knew the raptures 
as tired feet wandered far! 
Enough that the years were happy 
and sweet was the golden light 
That came at the first “Good Morn¬ 
ing” and stayed till the last 

“Good Night!” 

* * 

* 

Upward. 

What matters the tempest, 

The storm and the night? 

Up yonder is glowing 
The rainbow of light; 

And o’er the red path-ways to glory 
we go 

The feet of our faith in their happi¬ 
ness know! 

* 

* * 

Success in its true sense is a per¬ 
gonal and subjective matter, after 
all. Many have commanded armies 
and sat upon the purple thrones of 
the world with tear-stained cheeks 
and the unhappiest of hearts. Un¬ 
less life has brought happiness to 
the one who spends it royally, fail¬ 
ure of the most ignominious . kind 
has been its dark achievement. 

$<•>$> 


292 



Sooner Sayings. 

The gate to a cow pasture has 
rusty hinges. 

A horse’s swiftness is not deter¬ 
minedly the saddle he sports. 

The hoe and the branding-iron 
can’t dwell as friends in the same 
settlement. 

* * 

* 

Quit Grieving 

Don’t you go to grievin’ 

At the cry of grief; 

If you’ll try to whistle 
You will find relief! 

Mockin’-bird up yonder, 

Robin down below, 

An’ the worlda-singin’ 

All the songs they know! 

* * 

* 

A rose is only a roseafter all, how¬ 
ever sweet and beautiful it may be. 
And a weed is no worse than a weed, 
however noxious or deadly its ex¬ 
halations. Neither can reach into 
the realm of the other or invade the 
world of its supremacy. Stick to 
the world in which you are born, 
and throw no bouqets at the impos¬ 
sible or the unattainable. 


To the Dawn. 


Hand in hand to the dawn, dear, 

We go to the gates of day, 

Where the sweet light beckons on, 
dear, 

And the roses line the way: 

And whether the clouds are heavy 
Or whether the skies are blue, 

A song on the lips of love, dear, 
And a light in the eyes of you! 

Hand in hand to the dawn, dear, 
"We go through the happy years, 
Where the feet of the joys have gone, 
dear, 

And the smile of the gold appears; 
And whether the fates are friendly 
And whether the blossoms few, 
The touch of the hand is brave, 
dear, 

And a song in the heart of you! 

Hand in hand to the dawn, dear, 

We travel the dusty road. 

With thebruiseofthebattle’s brawn, 
dear, 

And the weight of the labor’s load; 
But whether we lose or conquer, 
And whether the rose or rue, 

A song on the paths we go, dear, 
And a smile on the face of you! 


294 


Hand in hand to the dawn, dear, 

We go to the gates of day, 

Where the sweet light beckons on, 
dear. 

And the roses line the way; 

And whether the clouds are heavy, 

Or whether the skies are blue, 

A song on the lips of love, dear, 

And a light in the eyes of you! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

A man is what he is, not what he 
heaps around him. 

When life passes into the rocking- 
chair existence, it has no energies 
for combat. 

To have one friend who believes 

in you is more than to be a favorite 

of extreme good fortune. 

* * 

* 

Little Sermons. 

Untempted virtue is frequently 
only undeveloped vice. 

When a man’s religion brings a 
long face, he simply got fooled in the 
article he found. 

So many people think heaven must 
be up yonder because they have 
never tried to find it here below. 


295 


You Sang to Me, Dear! 

I. 

You sang to me, Dear, in the morns 
far away, 

When the birds of the spring sang 
the matins of May, 

And the songs that you sang tome 
then were as sweet 

As the whispers the daisies lisped 
low at your feet. 

II. 

You sang to me, Dear, in the noons 
far away, 

When the fairies of joy sang the 
love-songs of May, 

And the touch of your hand was as 
tender and true 

As the longings of love in the dear 
heart of you! 

III. 

You sang to me, Dear, in the nights 
far away., 

When the dews of the dusk kissed 
the rose-lips of May, 

And the dews of your lips were as 
soft as the dew, 

And your eyes were as bright as 
the stars over you! 


296 



IV. 

O, the morn and the noon and the 
night, when your lips 
In the sweetest of raptures brought 
sorrow’s eclipse! 

They have died with the years on 
the deserts of men, 

Yet your heart to my heart sings 
the love-songs again! 

V. 

And the blossoms still bloom on the 
beautiful way 

Where the dews of the dusk kiss the 
rose-lips of May, 

And the noon and thenight from the 
far away shore 

Sing the songs that you sang, to my 

heart evermore! 

* 

* * 

Caught on the Fly 

A bar-room full of laughter is 
more attractive than a home used 
for rag-chewing. 

If a man stops to try on every 
shoe that fits him, he won’t get 
dressed in time to build the fires in 
the morning. 

Strength to do and to endure is 
the rich, ripe fruit of trial and strug¬ 
gle, grown only in the gardens of 
supreme courage. 


297 


Jist a-Wushin’! 

Jist a-wushin’ fer the grass 
Whayre the brook’s a-brimmin’ 

An’ the tow-head fellers thayre 
Strippin’ off fer swimmin’! 
Wushin’ fer to be a boy 
In the laughin’ Ian’s o’ joy, 

Whayre the rain-bows ring the 
medders with a rosy rim of joy! 

Wushin’ fer the fields o’ green, 
Cow-bells jingle, jangle, 

An’ the kids thayre on the swing 
In the tree-tops’ tangle! 
Wushin’ fer to- be a boy 
Whayre no sorrows fun de¬ 
stroy, 

An’ the rain-bows ring themedders 
with a rosy rim of joy! 

Wushin’ fer a fishin pole, 

Whayre the swallers chatter, 

An’ the Bob-whites come an’ call 
Through the cat-bird’s clatter! 
Wushin’ still to be a boy 
Whayre no grown-ups bring 
annoy, 

An’ the rain-bows ring the medders 
with a-rosy rim of joy! 

Jist a-wushin’! Only that, 

Fer the perished pleasures! 


298 


Jist a-wushin’! Fer the years 
An’ their squandered treasures! 
Wushin’ still to be a boy 
With the wide world fera toy. 
While the rain-bows ring the med- 
ders with a rosy rim of joy! 

* * 

* 

A Happy Farmer 

What’s the use to worry? 

Joy is coming nigh: 

Got the patches planted 

For the melons bye and bye! 

What’s the use to worry? 

Trust the rain and sky; 

They will stuff the melons 
Full of heaven bye and bye! 
*** 

Sooner Sayings 

When the cow-path fades, the sec¬ 
tion line appears. 

The testimony in a contest case is 
often a startling work of fiction. 

The booth certificate and the lot¬ 
tery number are worthless to the 
fellow that won’t hustle. 



299 


In the Lap of Spring. 

Took a walk one day to hear 
Mister Blue-bird sing; 

Found old Winter sittin’ there 
In the lap of Spring! 

“Mister Winter!” So I said, 
“Guess you’d better hike! 

Give the lady here a chance 
At the rosy pike!” 

* * 

* 

Loafing, 

Loafin’ in the sunshine, 

On a grassy bed, 

Dreamin’ of the melons 
An’ their hearts of red! 

Loafin’ in the sunshine,— 

That is what I said! 

Mockin’-bird a-singin’, 
Tree-tops overhead! 

Loafin’ in the sunshine! 

All the cares are dead, 

Thinkin’ of the melons 
An’ their hearts of red! 

Loafin’ in the sunshine,— 
Work an’ worry fled! 

Heart’s a-dancin’ hoe-downs 
With the roses red! 


300 




No Encouragement. 

“Ah tole yuh, boss, datbook whut 
yuh calls de Bible ain’t no frien’ to 
de cullud people,” said Black Mose 
in a sceptical moment. 

“Why, how is that Mose,” said the 
preacher. 

“Bekaze it doan’t hoi’ no en¬ 
couragement out foh de cullud sin- 
nah! Now, ef Hebben wuz a place 
full ob banjoes en wohtah-millions, 
all de black raskels would suah 
come eh-runnin’ to de moahneh’s 
bench so fas’ dey coulden’ be bap- 
soused!” And the old man slouched 
away full of indignation at the bar¬ 
renness of the heavenly promises. 

* 

* * 

Only the chemical tests of the long- 
years can determine the true suc¬ 
cess or the utter failure,—the worth 
of a great deed or the nothingness 
of a mean act. The world’s esteem¬ 
ed immortals have survived the 
shadows of oblivion only because of 
precious deeds they wrought for 
fellow men. The rags of yesterday 
are exchanged for purple robes as 
the centuries pass, while thecrowns 
of today fade and crumble into for 
getfulness. No man succeeds be¬ 
cause he becomes a king or fails be¬ 
cause he remains a peasant. 


301 


The Grip of the Prairies 

Up and down the world I’ve wan¬ 
dered. over land and over sea, 

With the rivers roiling under and 
the mountains over me,. 

And as sure as truth is certain, ycu 
wiU find this saying so: 

When the prairies grabafeller, they 
will never let him go! 

For there’s something in the stretch¬ 
es of the plains that comes and 
takes 

All the loves and all the longings 
for their own exalted sakes, 

And the man that gets to breathing 
of their glories day and night - 

Finds the prairies hold his heart¬ 
strings in a grip that’s good and 
tight. 

He may tread the balsam forests 
with their whiffs of fir and pine; 

He may sail the tossing oceans and 
inhale their breaths of brine; 

He may walk the rosy valleys, climb 
the mountains to the snow, 

But if once the prairies grab him 
they will never let him go! 

Ever see the sun rise proudly from 
the prairie’s naked rim 


302 


Filling up the world of wonder till 
it overflows the brim? 

’Tis a glory that’s unrivaled! ’Tis 
a most exalted sight, 

And the prairies that present it 
come and grab you good and 
tight! 

O, the grandeur of the prairies! O, 
the seas of grassy plain! 

How they soothe with satisfaction 
all the hopes of heart and brain! 
’Tis a truth beyond disputing, and 
your own heart says it’s so: 
When the prairies grab a feller, 
they will never let him go! 

* * 

* 

Caught on the Fly. 

The man who has only two hands 
has none to spare for his neighbor’s 
business. 

Some people get up and fool around 
in the dark so they can grumble at 
the lack of sunshine. 

The man who laughs in the sun¬ 
shine and sleeps when the shadows 
fall will never suffer much with the 
heart-ache. 

$ 0 $ 




The Meadows of Morning. 

The raptures grow the blossoms 
Over all the fields of May, 

And they bring the birds with 
music 

Just to sing the time away; 

O, brother, lift your voice 
In the anthems that rejoice 
While the roses rim the meadows of 
the morning! 

The glad hearts send the gladness 
Over all the fields we go, 

And the glory of the sunshine 
Brightens all the world we know ; 
O, brothers, come along! 

Let us sing the rain-bow song 
While the roses rim the meadows of 
the morning! 

The good Lord gives his bounties 
To his children through the 
years, 

And his gifts of love and labor 
Conquer all the griefs and tears; 
O, brother, bye and bye 
We shall reach the home on 
high 

While the roses rim the meadows of 
the morning! 


304 


Fields of May, 

Here’s a road that’s never long, 
Where it leads away 
Through t he blossom and the song 
To the fields of May! 

There the rain-bow bends above 
Bags of gold, they say; 

And there’s laughter, light and 
love 

In the fields of Mayf 
Here’s the road that’s never long! 

Come and let’s away, 

Through the blossom and the song 

To the fields of May l 
* * 

* 

With all the strife and struggle 
after riches, the greatest joys of 
-Hfe are forever more the gifts of 
nature, within the reach of rich and 
poor alike, and beyond the measur¬ 
ings of gold. The clear sky and the 
green grass, the sunshine of the 
noon, and the dew of the morning, 
the blossom and-the bird-song, good 
health and sound sleep, and the love 
of a man for a woman and of a wo¬ 
man for aman,—thesehaveno prices 
in the catalogues of wealth and 
poverty alike. 


305 


The Journey. 

This life, my dear, is a varied journey 
And most of its ways are queer, 
But those who laugh through its 
work and wonder 
Will find that it holds good cheer; 
And whether we laugh or languish 
And whether we sigh or sing, 

I am sure that still 
There is good for ill 
And the flash of an angel wing! 

The world, my dear, and the folk 
that use it 

Care naughtforour waste or worth; 
The smile and sorrow of hope and 
hurry 

Are small to the brave old earth; 
And whether with pain or pleasure 
And whether with smiles or tears, 
There is something glad 
For the dark and sad, 

And we go to the blessed years. 
The deeds, my dear, that we faint 
in doing, 

The dreams that we catch and 
cherish, 

To those that walk in the ways be¬ 
side us 

Are naught when they fall and 
perish; 


306 






But whether they fail or triumph 

And whether the rue or rose. 

To the hearts that hold 
They are more than gold 
Till the years of the gods unclose. 

It’s up, my dear, with the purple 
morning, 

And death to the heart’s annoy; 
No stop nor stay on the endless 
journey 

To rest on the hills of joy! 

And whether the paths are easy 

And whether the roads are long, 
There is rapture still 
For the ache and ill, 

As we wander the ways with song! 

Yes, life, my dear, is a varied jour¬ 
ney ' 

And most of its ways are queer, 
But those who laugh as they wan¬ 
der onward 

Will find that it holds good cheer; 
And whether we laugh or languish 

And whether we sigh or sing, 

I am sure that still 
There is good for ill 
And the flash of an angel wing! 


307 


“When the Sad Time Ends,” 

What’s the use to beckon trouble 
As you journey down the road? 
Life will find its burdens double 
If it cherishes the load! 

Keep a smile and be contented 
With the favors fortune sends, 
And the joys will romp around you 
Till the sad time ends. 

What’s the use to keep complaining 
At the gifts the good days bring? 
For each tear that flows from heart¬ 
ache 

There’s a hundred laughs that 
sing; 

For the day that’s dark and gloomy, 
God a hundred bright days lends, 
And his sunshine will be ceaseless 
When the sad time ends. 

What’s the use to go to growling 
When the comrades that you knew 
Turn their backs on all your kind¬ 
ness 

And unsheathe their knives for 
you? 

For the scamp that proves a traitor, 
You will find a hundred friends, 
And their golden hearts ne’er waver 
Till the sad time ends. 



What’s the use to welcome trouble? 

Chase it from the paths you go! 
There is always plenty of it 

If you cherish every woe. 

Keep your life alight with gladness 

Till a song each day attends; 

You will reach the land of sunshine 

When the sad time ends. 

* * 

* 

Sooner Sayings 

The land office is the grave-yard 
of many a happy home., 

In driving a settlement stake, one 
man is company and two’s a crowd. 

The ox-team makes a swift run 
when its owner understands how 
to drive them at the land-office win¬ 
dow. 

* 

* * 

Snake Bite 

“Did you have any accidents on 
the fishing trip?” 

“No: none to speak of?” 

“Any one snake bit?” 

“Yes, but that’s nothing. Bill 
Jones got snake-bit every time his 
clothes rubbed him, and h’ollered 
for whiskey; and in order to save 
any, we had to undress Bill and put 
him under guard for the general 
welfare. 


309 



The Books, 

I. 

Close the book and put it by! 

What it held of song and sigh, 

What it held of smile and tear 
Laughs and sorrows through the 
year! 

Pages dark and pages fair 
Eacji to each are wedded there, 

And no sage e’er understood 
What was evil, what was good! 

II. 

Close the life and put it by! 

It was made of song and sigh, 

It was made of smiles and tears 

And the struggles of the years! 

Days of dark and days of fair 

Closely came and blended there, 

And but He who judges could 

Know the evil and the good! 

* * 

* 

Every day and hour from which 
Love witholds her smiles and hides 
her happy face is a desert path in 
the rose-fields of this life. Only he 
who welcomes the laughing goddess 
to his heart and holds her dear hands 
close with an abiding faith, receives 
that holy happiness discerning-souls 
call a success worth having. 


310 


Move Along 

Move along, brother! 

The way may be long. 

But yonder’s the sunshine 
And here is the song. 

Move along, brother! 

The rain-bow is red; 

The clouds with the shadows 
And darkness have fled. 

Move along, brother! 

The turn of the lane! 

Here’s laughing for weeping 

And pleasure for pain! 

* * 

* 

The Sage. 

Removed from pygmy ways afar, 

He feels the heft of sun and star,— 
He traces winding paths that go 
Beyond the ways thatdullardsknow, 
And sails swift thoughts across the 
seas 

Of God’s unsailed immensities. 

His vision sees the First and Last 
To present smallness welded fast. 
And he beholds with prophet eye 
The brotherhood of earth and sky, 
And, when Time’s voyage wild is o’er 
The lights upon the farther shore! 


Still Onward. 

What if the paths be dark and shad¬ 
owed still 

The summit roads and hope hides 
in eclipse! 

Beyond the tangled ways that mur¬ 
mur ill 

The touch of tender lips! 



Forth on the dark ways though 
still darker grow 
The paths before the groping fin¬ 
ger-tips ! 

Beyond the shadow year£ our vis¬ 
ions know 

The touch of tender lips! 

* * 

* 

Finis. 

A sigh and a song, 

And a song and a sigh; 

But the song helps along 
To the sky bye and bye! 



312 


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